Ambrosia
by ambreignstrain
Summary: A coffee shop AU. No, it's seriously just the coffee that brings Roman into the funky coffee shop Ambrosia every morning. He absolutely does not go there to stare at the surly, scruffy dude who fills his order every morning. It's just the coffee. Totally. [Ambreigns]
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Part one of something that's either going to be a two- or three-shot. Enjoy.

 **Ambrosia**

If you ask twenty different people where you can get the best coffee in the city, you'll probably get twenty different answers.

Everybody's got their favorites, from fancy places to the chains to the cute, kitschy ones.

But the ones who _know_ \- who _really know_ \- swear by a place called Ambrosia.

It's this squat, funky little building wedged like an annoying stone in a shoe tread between two bigger office complexes. It's a building that knows it's out of place among the highrises and skyscrapers downtown, and resolutely does not give a fuck.

The logo reflects that: the word _Ambrosia_ is a scrawled in spiky handwriting in white on an all-black background, and the first A is a version of an anarchy symbol. (The circle is flattened on one side, so it almost looks like a capital D.)

The sign looks more like something you'd see on a biker bar than a coffee shop, and to Roman Reigns that's part of what makes the place really interesting.

Inside, it's like that, too, with black brick wall paper that's covered with an array of battered street signs, old license plates, and strands of barbed wire that have been flattened so the barbs don't catch any unsuspecting customers. There's even an old jukebox that's been cleverly converted into a freebie newspaper rack. And it's modern rock playing over the speakers in the place - quietly - instead of typical coffee shop music.

All that's missing are the neon beer signs and scuffed pool tables.

And instead of dudes wearing leather bellied up to the bar, there's the usual coffee-shop assortment of bleary-eyed college kids squinting at their laptops and a few elderly people chatting over fresh pastries.

It's eight-thirty, so it won't be very crowded.

On his way to work every morning, Roman drives by here and there's always people lined up out the door here - regardless of the weather.

People are that damn serious about their coffee.

So is Roman, but since he's half-owner of his own architectural and engineering firm, he can also afford to wait a half-hour before venturing out for the daily fix.

He always comes here himself.

Antonio thinks it's weird, since they have two coffee-drinking junior employees they could send on the coffee run, but if Roman's honest, it's not just the _coffee_ he comes down here for.

He's not honest.

It's just the coffee.

It's definitely - _definitely_ \- not to stare at the guy who works the coffee machines.

Ambrosia has, as far as Roman can tell, three employees:

There's Corey, the guy who works the register. He's about Roman's height, handsome, lean, and tatted up. He wears tight jeans, a tight tee shirt, and an apron. Looks like the kind of guy who'd be just as home at a biker bar as he would some trendy neon-drenched nightclub. He's laid-back and friendly, knows his shit, and doesn't ever seem to get his feathers ruffled by customers acting like jackasses. Big hit with the ladies (and some of the guys, too). Roman's seen more than one person slide Corey their phone number - despite the presence of a wedding ring.

There's Finn, the guy who does the pastries. He's shorter than Roman, dark-haired and blue-eyed, and very mellow. Good-looking. As he's loading up the pastry cases, he'll chat with the customers who happen to be nearby, and never seems to not have a smile. Gets flustered easily, Roman's noticed more than once, especially when someone compliments him instead of his pastries.

And then there's Coffee Wizard.

Silent, slouchy, and scruffy, Coffee Wizard looks like about the last guy Roman would expect to be running a coffee machine. On days he shaves (Mondays and Thursdays - not that Roman's really paying attention), he looks like some kind of college frat bro: black baseball cap worn backward, jeans, tennis shoes, and either a black or a gray Ambrosia tee shirt. Days he doesn't shave, he looks more like some dude who stumbled out of a scuzzy dive bar after last call, squinting and tired and surly.

He doesn't wear a nametag, doesn't acknowledge anyone (including Roman) who thanks him, and doesn't ever turn away from the coffee machines to look at anyone.

All he does is make the coffee.

It's as weird as it is off-putting because who the hell doesn't at least nod or wave or something when someone says 'Thank you'? Who the hell stands there completely avoiding eye contact with-

( _-me_ -)

-anyone and everyone who steps up to the register?

Coffee Wizard's customer service skills are probably the worst Roman's ever seen.

Of course, the guy also makes the best cup of coffee in the city, so most people give him a pass on it.

But Roman Reigns isn't most people.

* * *

Not that he actually gives a damn about Coffee Wizard's mangy butt.

It's just about the coffee.

Really.

It is.

* * *

(It's not.)

* * *

It's just the coffee.

That's why, on a bored Wednesday in the middle of September, Roman says to Corey across the counter, "Antonio, Tyler, and Bayley are having their usual, but I'm in the mood for something different."

"Okay," Corey says easily. Everything about him is easy, from the way he's behind the register to the way his clothes fit, he's one of those guys who just manages to project _cool_ without trying. Even the way he twirls the pen around his fingers is cool. "Whatcha got in mind?"

"Not sure," Roman admits, turning a little so his words are aimed vaguely at the coffee machines. Coffee Wizard's over in front of them, his back mostly to the register, four cups already in one hand and his Sharpie in the other. "Dark roast maybe?"

Coffee Wizard, he thinks absently, has kind of a flat ass, but it's not bad in those jeans, and-

 _What?_

He jerks his eyes up to the menu, pretending he doesn't see the way Corey raises his eyebrows. "Yeah, the dark roast. Make it a large."

"Large dark," Corey says. "Good choice. That's my favorite." He taps the order in on his screen, and glances over his shoulder at Coffee Wizard. "Catch that? Usual for Tyler, Antonio, and Bayley, and a large dark for Roman."

Coffee Wizard's scrawling names on the sides of the cups. He has the most impatient handwriting Roman's ever seen, all spiky, half-formed letters like he doesn't want to bother finishing one letter before moving on to the next. He doesn't look up from where he's writing Roman's name. "Uh-huh."

Roman passes Coery his card to pay, and forces himself to look right instead of left, to the flyers on the window advertising some local bands he's never heard of.

There's only two other people in the shop right now, and no one in line behind him, but he feels really in-the-way for some reason. Like he's sticking out.

It's not exactly a new feeling.

At six-three and a healthy two-fifty, he tends to stand out - especially now that he's let Antonio talk him into splurging on suits that actually fit him instead of the discount crap that only half-fit him before. Now he's walking around in steel grays the same color as his eyes, or pin-striped blacks with blue or white shirts and his hair down, and he can _feel_ the difference.

Strutting into a room knowing he looks good, it's done wonders for his confidence.

 _Presence_ , is what Antonio calls it.

It's why he's the one who usually deals with the clients, while Antonio stays behind the scenes designing.

But here it just feels weird, and he's not sure he likes it.

"Hey so," Corey says, handing Roman's debit card back over, "I've been meaning to ask, Roman. What is it you do, anyway?"

Roman puts his wallet away, and leans on the counter again. "Architecture and engineering. My business partner and I, we started a firm next door about a year ago."

"You-? Oh, that's awesome. So you guys design buildings. Anything I'd know?"

"You been by the little apartment building that's going up on Hamilton and Ridgecrest? That's us. Our first."

Corey nods and smiles in his easy way. "I've seen the construction. Wasn't sure if it was offices or what. That's cool, though. Seeing it come together, that's gotta be cool for you guys."

"Yeah, man." That's the best part.

"So, you guys do houses, too? Or just buildings?"

"Right now we're doing whatever," Roman says. "There's a lot of competition out there, and we can't afford to be picky yet. So buildings, houses, and hell, we'd even design dog houses if it came to that." He's only half-kidding. "How long have you guys been here, anyway?"

"Well, I mean, _I've_ only worked here a year," Corey says, "but I think-" He looks around at Coffee Wizard. "When did you open this place, boss? October of '13?"

"Yeah," Coffee Wizard grunts. He's snapping the lid on Roman's coffee, head down and mostly turned away.

So apparently he's the boss.

And maybe he owns the place.

 _Huh_.

Corey says something about celebrating the shop's anniversary, but Roman's too busy adding these new pieces of information to his mental Coffee Wizard blueprint to pay much attention to it, an arm hitched up on the pastry case and his tie tweezed between the fingers of his other hand.

The black long-sleeved tee shirt Coffee Wizard is wearing looks soft and and a little wash-faded; it rides up enough to expose the black elastic of his underwear when he reaches up for another lid.

 _Christ, Reigns_.

Roman's face is actually burning when he looks away. Like he's a teenager caught staring at one of his old man's porno mags or something.

This time, Corey's too busy assembling a paper drink carrier to notice, thank God.

When Coffee Wizard brings the last two cups over for Corey to pack in, Roman makes it a point to look right at him. "Thanks, man. This is killer coffee."

Coffee Wizard slips Roman's cup into the carrier. Doesn't look up. "'Course it is."

"He means thank you," Corey says.

"No, I don't," Coffee Wizard mutters on his way back to the coffee machines.

But he tosses Roman a completely unreadable look over his shoulder, one that lasts just long enough for Roman to finally add _blue eyes_ to the Coffee Wizard blueprint.

Roman manages not to smile when he grabs the drink carrier and heads out, but it's a close call.

"Well," Corey says, breaking into Roman's train of thought, " _I_ mean thank you. Thanks for the business, man. Really appreciate it. See you tomorrow."

"Yeah," Roman says to Coffee Wizard's back. See you."

Coffee Wizard doesn't turn, but that's okay.

This has _challenge_ written all over it, and Roman's nothing if not up for a challenge.

* * *

It's just because he kind of wants to know Coffee Wizard's secret.

Where he gets his grounds and what the hell he does to make it taste as good as it does.

"What are you smiling about?" Bayley demands the second Roman hands her her cup.

Roman likes Bayley. She's their part-time help-slash-intern, a go-getter college student with the kind of smarts and work ethic that makes Roman hope like hell they'll have the money to hire her full-time when she graduates. She's big into interior design, and has Antonio's knack for making something that's both eye-catching and functional.

They pay her just above minimum wage and the best coffee in the city, and she never complains.

She's a sweetheart.

Also nosy.

Too damn nosy for her own good.

She's back in the conference room where Roman left her, her laptop open on the big table and the draft prints Antonio had asked her to look over on the screen, bare feet kicked carelessly up on an empty chair.

The firm right now only has two offices, and that's good enough. Since Antonio and Roman are the only ones here full-time, they're the only ones who need offices. Bayley doesn't mind working out of the conference room, and Tyler's so possessive of the front reception desk it's bordering on creepy, and it's _working_.

Somehow, some way this half-assed plan they'd hatched over lunch on a day where they'd both been just fed the hell up of working for someone else is working.

They're a full year and a handful of jobs in, and it feels like they're starting to get some traction. There are still too many days when Tyler doesn't have much to do besides sit up front and either dick around on Twitter or page through one of his billion fashion magazines, but it's getting better.

The ground still doesn't feel all that solid yet, but it doesn't feel like the quicksand it used to even three months ago.

It's put everybody in a hell of a lot better mood, and it's why, instead of telling Bayley it's none of her damn business, he smiles wider and says, "You know me. Just like it when days get off to a good start."

Bayley wraps both hands around the cup and takes a sip. "Did senpai finally notice you?"

He'd make the monumental mistake of bringing her with him to get coffee one day; on their way back to the office, she'd nudged him and said she thought it was cute how he was checking out the barista.

"You've got puppy dogs eyes and everything," she'd said, blowing steam away from her coffee. "Just waiting for your coffee senpai to notice you."

He never brought her with him to get coffee again.

Today, he brings his coffee cup to his mouth and says, "Quit that. You know I ain't about that. Getting noticed. I just want-"

"To know where he gets his coffee beans," Bayley finishes with him. It's his standard line of defense. She doesn't fall for it any more now than she did the first time he used it. "Why don't you want to tell me what happened?"

It's Roman's turn to shoot _her_ a look. "Nothing happened. Besides, even if something _had_ and I told you, in three minutes' time I'd have Tyler and Antonio in my office to interrogate me. Y'all got no respect for a man's privacy."

"Right, like you don't give _me_ the third degree whenever I talk about Enzo?"

Her boyfriend, a strange, but decent dude with some of the weirdest hair Roman's ever seen. "That's different," he says, heading for the door. "Just wanna make sure he's treating you right."

She huffs. "I can take care of myself. You know I can."

"Yeah, 'course I know that." He's not patronizing: she's one of the toughest people he's ever met. Probably kick his ass if she was mad enough. "Doesn't mean I don't care."

"Well, I care about _you_ ," she says. "Antonio says you haven't been out with anyone in over a year. Just want to make sure you're happy. That's all."

He pauses in the doorway and turns to offer her a smile. "Like I said, no respect for a man's privacy. Don't worry about me. You got those changes to Jericho's prints ready for me to send over? Told him I'd have them to him this morning."

Bayley really looks like she wants to say something, but this time she chooses to take the hint. "They're next on my list. Antonio asked me to finish up interior model on the Cage-Copeland house. Give me about an hour?"

"That'll work," he says on his way into the hall. "Thanks, Bayley."

* * *

He resolves not to think about it (or anything of the old crap that tries to surface) the rest of the day, and between joining Antonio for another walk-through of the apartment construction site, a meeting with a new client to start going through ideas, and his hours spent going over 3D house models and wire frames, he keeps himself busy enough that he doesn't have time to.

Ambrosia's crowded the rest of the week when Roman goes in, so he's free to stand aside and watch Coffee Wizard do his thing without Corey giving him weird looks.

For all he slouches and dresses like he pulled his clothes on after they'd been in the dryer all week, Coffee Wizard is a dude who moves like he knows exactly what he's doing, all intent concentration and hands that never fumble or grab the wrong thing.

Roman's traitor brain has him wondering if Coffee Wizard's that sure and confident in bed.

 _Stop that,_ he growls at himself every time the thought tries to slip in.

Each day, Coffee Wizard himself hands Roman his drink carrier over the counter, even going so far as to make actual eye contact as he does.

Roman says, "Thanks a lot," every time.

Wednesday, Coffee Wizard doesn't answer.

Thursday, he gives Roman the smallest nod.

Friday, he grunts a just-audible, "Yup."

Corey sees them and smiles a very strange little smile.

Roman hurries off with his coffee, suddenly remembering there's...something...at the office he needs to do.

The question about whether or not they grind their coffee beans in-house can wait until later.

On his way across the street, he absolutely does not hear Bayley sing-songing, " _Senpai noticed you!"_ in the back of his mind.

Nope.

Not at all.

* * *

But it's like the universe just can't leave it alone.

When Roman heads over to Ambrosia the following Monday morning, he's surprised to find Corey sitting on one of the concrete planters outside, smoke curling up from a cigarette in his fingers. He'd swapped his apron for a brown leather jacket and a pair of aviator shades.

With his hair slicked back, dark boots, and tight tee shirt, he looks like something straight out of a James Dean movie, _cool_ just oozing out of every pore.

"Hey, man," Roman says, pausing at the front of the planter. "Didn't know you were a smoker."

A jerk of a nod, and Corey stubs the smoke out on the planter's concrete edge. "Shitty habit, I know," he says, flicking the butt into the dirt behind him. "My girls are always on me to quit, but there's always something. If my wife's not sick, then it's one of the kids, and - well. That's bullshit. Just excuses. I'm gonna quit." He waves that aside. "Hey, but I'm glad I caught you."

Roman watches an old gray van rattle by on the street. "Yeah? What's up?'

"So, like," Corey says carefully, "I'm gonna be running my youngest to daycare around this time every day this week. So it's just gonna be the boss in there. I was gonna tell you, um. Not that it's any of my business or anything, and not that I really get it, but he's - he does swing that way, if you know what I mean. And he's single."

"Okay," Roman says slowly. Doesn't let himself wince. "And you're telling me this because…?"

Corey shoots him an unimpressed look. "You trying to tell me you're not interested? You're up there checking him out every day."

"I do not." When Roman was a junior in high school, one of his cousins pantsed him right the middle of a crowded lunchroom.

This is approximately a thousand times more embarrassing.

It's just supposed to be about the coffee.

"The hell you don't," Corey chuckles quietly. "It's cool, bro. That's what I'm saying. He kinda comes off like a crabby asshole, but he's actually a helluva guy. Done a lot for me and my family this year, so if I can help him, I want to. You know? And you seem like a decent dude yourself. So what I'm saying is there's no reason you couldn't go for it."

Roman looks over at Corey again. "You're gonna be swallowing some teeth if you don't wipe that smug-ass look off your face, son," he says without heat. "But okay, fine. _Hypothetically speaking_ , say a guy was interested. How would they approach him?"

Not that he's actually going to, but it might be good to know.

Corey gets up and brushes cigarette ash off his jeans, which are so tight Roman can almost see the veins in his legs. Antonio likes them that tight, too, on his days off, but Roman's never got the appeal. He actually likes the freedom to move.

Not that Corey seems all that inhibited. He fishes keys out of his pocket and says, "Honestly, man, I don't know how much help I'm gonna be other than telling you to go for it. But I guess just be real. He can spot a bullshitter a mile away. And be patient. Takes him a while to warm up to people. Other than that, like I said, just go for it. Gotta run. Good luck."

He flashes Roman a thumb's up and hurries off around the corner, leaving Roman standing confused in his wake.

Belatedly, it hits him he never even asked Corey Coffee Wizard's name.

Because that would probably be good to know, too.

Just in case.

* * *

Inside Ambrosia, it's quiet.

Some mornings are, once the breakfast rush is gone.

Aside from an elderly man reading a newspaper at a table by the front window, and a pair of - probably - college girls pecking away on their laptops at a back table, the place is empty.

Roman's feeling a little like he dragged his skin on wrong this morning, so it's a good thing there aren't too many people around.

He makes his way up to the counter, and the first thing he notices on his way is that Coffee Wizard isn't hovering around the coffee machines like he usually is.

Today, he's up running a rag over the top of the pastry case, lower lip caught between his teeth and a weird crease between his eyebrows.

It's Monday, so he's clean-shaven, and he's wearing a cool black and gray Ambrosia hoodie Roman's never seen before.

He abandons the rag and drifts gingerly over to meet Roman at the register, the frown smoothing away. Two knobby fingers tap the edge of the counter, and he eventually gets around to making eye contact. "Morning."

"Good morning," Roman replies, hitching his right arm up onto the corner of the pastry case. "How's it going?"

"Fine," is the curt answer. _Tap. Tap. Tap._ "You?"

"I'm _always_ fine, man," Roman replies, smiling. "You know."

He doesn't mean anything by it, but Coffee Wizard rolls his eyes. "You want your usual there, Always Fine?"

Roman almost makes a comment about Coffee Wizard's customer service skills needing some work, but thankfully thinks better of it. Instead, nods and says, "Yes, please."

"'kay. Bear with me a sec. Fucking terrible at this." Coffee Wizard pokes at the register's screen the way someone would if they weren't that familiar with the technology. That crease reappears between his eyebrows.

Roman gets the stupidest urge to reach over and smooth it away. Settles for clearing his throat. "Hey, no worries, man. I'm not in a hurry today."

 _Tap. TAP. TAP-TAP._ "C'mon, ya piece of shit."

"Excuse _me?"_

"Not you," Coffee Wizard mutters without looking up. "What is it you do? Architecture?"

"Right," Roman nods, pleased. So the guy _had_ been listening. Good to know. "Antonio's the designer, and I'm the engineer. I deal with the clients, too."

"And make the coffee run."

"It keeps the team motivated."

"'Course it does. My coffee's fucking awesome," Coffee Wizard says, poking the register's screen. "Piece of - oh. Okay, there we go. Six-"

But whatever he'd been about to say gets abandoned when the phone hanging beside the door to the kitchen rings. It's a battered old cordless, loud and obnoxious, and Coffee Wizard cusses under his breath before abandoning the register to go grab it. "Total's sixteen-eighty," he tells Roman over his shoulder. Then he grabs the phone out of its cradle. "Ambrosia."

Roman smiles to himself, charmed and amused, and reaches into his jacket pocket for his wallet.

On his way back over to the register, Coffee Wizard says into the phone, "Yeah, Brad, but make it snappy. It's just me in here right now and I'm trying to get an order ready for a customer. The hell does he want?"

He wedges the phone between his ear and shoulder, takes Roman's card, and proceeds to swipe it backwards about five times before he realizes what he's doing. "Dumbass," he mutters under his breath. "No, not you, Brad. It's me. I'm a fuckin' _genius_ with technology, let me tell you. Jesus Christ."

When Roman huffs a laugh, Coffee Wizard glances up and shakes his head ruefully. "Sorry," he mouths, handing Roman's receipt and debit card back across the counter.

"No problem," Roman says, stashing everything away.

Coffee Wizard heads back to start on Roman's order, the phone still wedged between his ear and shoulder, and Roman grabs another freebie newspaper off the rack just so it doesn't look like he's eavesdropping.

He's not, but he can't help it if he's standing close enough to hear Coffee Wizard's side of the conversation.

"The answer is no, Brad," is what he's saying, his Sharpie squeaking its impatient capitals on a cup. "Tell them, and you can quote me on this, that they can shove their 'settlement proposal' where the sun don't shine. The only settlement proposal I'm going to accept is they drop the lawsuit, pay your fees, and then pucker up and kiss my ass. Literally. Otherwise, the answer is 'I'll see you in court, motherfucker. Have fun trying to tapdance outta what my tape shows.' Again, feel free to quote me."

Behind his newspaper, Roman smiles. He likes that. The bluntness. The quiet rasp of Coffee Wizard's voice. Probably sounds _amazing_ during sex, and-

 _Stop that._

A couple little old ladies totter up to stand in line behind him; he grimaces and shifts to the side, desperately trying to think about anything but pinning Coffee Wizard to the mattress and going wild.

 _Whoa, whoa, whoa. No._

Coffee Wizard ends his call and hangs the phone back up by the kitchen door. On his way back to the finishing Roman's order, he tosses a quick look over at the counter and says, "Be right with you," to the old ladies.

"Thank you, dear," the smaller one says in a quiet, wavering voice.

So much for getting a chance to go for it today.

When Coffee Wizard passes the drink carrier across, he barely spares Roman a glance. The muttered, "Haveagoodone" is rushed, perfunctory.

"Yeah, you too, man," Roman says, picking up his coffees and heading out as fast as he can.

Damn Corey for putting that stupid idea in his head in the first place.

* * *

It's Antonio who makes the discovery.

Like Corey, Antonio Cesaro is a dude who's just effortlessly cool and stylish. From the way he never misses a spot when he shaves his head to the mirror shine on his shoes, there's not a single thing about him that's out of place. His suits always look sharp, and he wears the hell out of them (as opposed to Roman, who still sometimes feels like a kid playing dress-up when he knots his ties).

Not even Tyler can find fault in how Antonio dresses, and Tyler can find fault in anything.

But standing at his file cabinet with his glasses hanging out of his mouth, his shirtsleeves rolled up, and a thick folder in his hands, Antonio just oozes swag.

A talented architect with an eye for clean, classic designs, Antonio had been Roman's mentor at Helmsley Architectural. After several thankless years of toil, Antonio had gotten fed up enough and decided to go into business for himself. He'd approached Roman with the idea, and Roman, reeling from a nasty breakup, had jumped at the chance to break away and make a fresh start.

"Ah, good morning," Antonio says. He's always far too upbeat on Mondays. "Just set that on my desk, please. Have a seat while you're at it. I have a couple things for you this morning. How was the weekend?"

Roman slips out of his suit jacket, hangs it over the back of one of Antonio's leather chairs, and sits down. "It was all right. Went and hung out with my cousins. Jimmy finally popped the question to Naomi."

"Oh? That's only, what, a year overdue?" Antonio carefully straightens the papers in his file and slides everything back into the drawer. "Still, it's good for him."

"No kidding," Roman chuckles. "When Jimmy pulled out the ring, Naomi's exact reaction was, 'It's about damn time, fool.' And of course she said yes, so."

Antonio makes his way back around the desk and takes a seat. "Will the wedding be here or back in Florida?"

"They haven't decided that yet," Roman admits, sipping his coffee. It's perfect, as always. "How 'bout you?"

"I played butler all weekend. Natalia was sick. A stomach bug, I think. I'm hoping I - what is that?" He leans forward in his chair suddenly, squinting at Roman's coffee cup. "What does that say? Always fine? What does that mean?"

"What are you talking about?" Roman asks, confused.

"Look at your cup," Antonio tells him, bushy eyebrows raised. "What's written on it. There's an arrow, too."

Sure enough, Coffee Wizard had written ALWAYS FINE on the side of Roman's cup, and it might be his imagination, but the letters look neater than usual, fully-formed instead half-finished. There's a downward-pointing arrow beside them, too, which prompts him to lift the cup look at the bottom.

Scrawled into the white styrofoam is the message " _Sorry abt that. Rmnd me tmrow & order's free. -DA_." The DA looks like a sloppy version of Ambrosia's anarchy logo.

 _What the hell?_

"Well?" Antonio demands. "What does it say?" After Roman tells him, his eyebrows pull down. "Sorry about what? Did something happen?"

"No," Roman says slowly. "The - you know the guy at Ambrosia? Not the one with the tattoos, but-"

"Your not-so-secret crush?" Antonio chuckles. "I think the whole world knows about that by this point."

"He's not-"

"What about him?"

Roman pulls in a breath and looks out the windows over Antonio's shoulder. One of the reasons they chose this building was the view of the river behind it. It's a good distraction.

Ordinarily, he'd keep his shit to himself, but maybe getting it the hell out of his head might help.

"Don't tell Bayley or Tyler any of this," he says, holding up a hand. "I'm serious. Not that Tyler's gonna care since it ain't about him, but I don't need Bayley freaking out on me about how 'senpai noticed you.'"

Antonio sits back and grins lopsidedly. "Did he?"

"You better not make me regret telling _you_ this, either," Roman gruffs at him. It's all bark, and they both know it, but a man's gotta keep his dignity somehow.

Of course actually saying this shit aloud turns out to be about as embarrassing as he thought it would, so he doesn't waste words, cutting straight to the chase and getting it out there as fast as he can.

Antonio listens without interruption, fingers steepled under his chin and the weirdest smile on his face. It's almost _smug_ , in a way.

"So anyway," Roman finishes up, "I don't have a clue what I'm gonna do or what the deal with the free coffee is, but yeah. There it is. What do you think?"

"I think it's funny sometimes, the way things work out," is what Antonio tells him. "How lucky for you. Your coffee man is already giving you free gifts."

"What's funny is I don't even know his damn _name_ ," Roman admits. "I've just been calling him Coffee Wizard in my head."

Antonio laughs warmly at that. "You should tell him that. It would make a good chatty line. 'Excuse me, but is your name Coffee Wizard? Because your beans are pure magic.'"

Roman chuckles. "You know, I seriously do just want to know where he gets his-"

"Grinds, yes. Yes, yes, yes. This you've said a thousand times. So ask him where he gets them, and then ask him what he likes to drink besides coffee. Don't overthink it."

"So you think I should."

"I think that my life would have been much more miserable if I hadn't taken a chance and asked Natalia out for a drink. I think I always would have wondered 'what if I had'. I would've regretted it. Would you? If you didn't take a chance, and you came in one day to see someone there making him happy, would you regret it?"

Times like this are why Roman likes coming to Antonio for advice. He's got a way of looking at things from a totally unexpected perspective. It's what makes him a hell of an architect, too.

All Roman has to do is think of all the times he's been annoyed seeing someone else try to talk to Coffee Wizard to know the answer is, "I think I would."

"Then there's your answer." Antonio picks up his cup. "And if getting you laid means we get a discount on our coffee, so much the better."

And, really, there's nothing to say to that.

* * *

Roman heads into Ambrosia Tuesday morning fighting off a case of nerves.

He'd spent a restless night trying to come up with a way to even start a conversation, before eventually giving up and deciding to wing it.

Before he got all messed up over Seth Rollins, Roman never had problems talking to guys.

He can do this.

But of course the shop is busy when Roman makes it in, with four people ahead of him in line and another three behind him by the time he makes it up to the front counter.

It's Finn up working register today, up there in his flour-dusted apron and smiling shyly at a couple of twentysomethings who're flirting pretty outrageously with him, declaring their undying love for his croissants and filled pastries. When one of them leans over and says, loudly, that Finn must really _love_ filling pastries, Finn's face turns almost as red as his tee shirt, his fingers fumbling on over the register.

Over in his usual spot in the back corner, Coffee Wizard rolls his eyes.

Finn survives the twentysomethings, and the next couple of customers, one of whom asks him about his accent and chatters away about her trip to Dublin years ago, and has he ever been? Does he know the Brennan family from Cork? Fortunately, she doesn't hang around once she's got her coffee.

When it's Roman's turn, Finn looks relieved to see him. "An easy one, finally. Heya, Roman."

"Hey, man," Roman says, leaning against the pastry case as usual. "You got recruited, huh?"

"It was dead quiet when Corey left," Finn nods, fingers hovering over the register, "and two minutes later, it went nuts again. Usual, yeah?"

Out of the corner of his eyes, Roman sees Coffee Wizard on his way over, so he holds off answering.

Coffee Wizard looks tired, dark circles under his eyes and extra slump in his slouch. Even baseball cap looks like it's wilting. But he nods at Roman and nudges Finn's elbow. "Don't charge him, Finn. This one's on the house."

"Well, hey, in that case," Roman says lightly, "I'll take the whole menu, and all your pastries. Good morning, by the way."

"Mornin'," Coffee Wizard says. "And in _that_ case, Finn, charge his ass triple for everything. We can pay off your car loan tonight."

"That'll be six thousand, then," Finn tells Roman, and adds dryly to Coffee Wizard, "Thanks, boss. You're the best."

"'Course I am," Coffee Wizard says on his way back to get Roman's order. "I'm the best at everything."

Roman moves off to one side so the college kid behind him can put his order in. He really wants to ask about why the free coffee, but with so many people around, he can't bring himself too. Instead, he smirks and says, "Including technology"

Coffee Wizard shoots him a wry look over one shoulder. "I'm _amazing_ at technology, thank you very much. Especially cash registers. Shut the hell up over there," he adds when Finn snorts at the register. "Nobody asked you."

"Not a word, boss," Finn says, head down dutifully over the touchscreen.

With that, Coffee Wizard gets to work filling Roman's order, more bounce in his step than there had been two minutes ago. Since Roman's standing over by the napkins and straws instead of in his usual spot by the pastry case, the view's nowhere near as good, but he smiles to himself anyway at the thought that he's the one who put the extra bounce there.

He kind of wants to puff up his chest and say something like, "I did that," to all the customers waiting in line. "See that? That was me."

Which is stupid as hell, but still.

 _Maybe._

This time when Coffee Wizard passes the drink carrier over the counter, he says, "Here you go, Always Fine."

Roman tries not to smile, but fails miserably. "Thanks a lot, The Best."

Coffee Wizard lifts his chin and deadpans, "The Best _At Everything_. C'mon. You gotta use my full name."

"My bad, my bad," Roman laughs. He switches the drink carrier from his right hand to his left. "Have a good day, man."

"See you tomorrow."

As he makes his way out of the shop, Roman notices there's a new bounce in his step, too.

* * *

There's no note on the bottom of his cup today, but Coffee Wizard had labeled it BIG DOG.

Roman sits at his desk smiling stupidly at it for almost ten minutes.

When Bayley spots it, her eyes light up, and she sing-songs, "Senpai nooooticed you. BIG DOG."

For once, he doesn't mind.

* * *

A/N: Don't know about this one yet. It's weird, but it's kinda fun. We'll see where it goes. Thanks for reading.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks so much for the feedback on the first part. This part is not as fluffy as that one.

 **Ambrosia  
Part II: No Good, Very Bad Day  
**

Since Roman's got a meeting Wednesday morning with Chris Jericho, he pulls on his sharpest gray suit - the one he Bayley says looks "killer" on him, and that he wears with a black shirt and white-striped black tie - and spends some extra time making sure his goatee is even, he hasn't missed a spot shaving, and that there's not a hair out of place.

Chris "I'm not old enough for you to call me Mr." Jericho is their first _big_ \- potential - client, a rockstar and style icon who's looking have a "rock as _hell_ " office-slash-studio space built so he can add 'label owner' to his resume.

He came with a reputation for being kind of a primadonna pain-in-the-ass, but, even with Antonio admitting he was a little baffled by what "rock as _hell_ " meant in terms of building design, Chris really hasn't been bad to work with. He'd thrown out enough ideas to get them started and been pretty good about getting back to them with answers.

Problem is, they're not the only firm trying to get Chris's business on this building.

Word has it there are three other firms in the city working on concepts for him - including Roman and Antonio's old firm - and it's a little frustrating. They're three of the biggest firms in the city, with three fairly well-known names attached to them, and while it's cool to be in the same conversation with them, odds are pretty good one of the bigger firms will get it.

Chris's assistant Adam had called late yesterday afternoon to schedule a meeting.

Adam wouldn't say what Chris wanted to meet about (whether it was to tweak the design or just to tell them Chris was going with another firm), but just the same, Roman's not going to be caught looking anything less than his best.

* * *

And, not that Roman's really _trying_ or anything, but if Coffee Wizard likes what he sees, so much the better.

* * *

On his walk over to Ambrosia, he catches a few people checking him out, and it puts a strut in his step that hasn't been there in over a year.

(When he makes it past the first one, he surreptitiously checks to be sure his fly's zipped up and all his buttons are done up right. Knowing his damn luck, the day he decides to strut his stuff would be the day he walked around with his damn barn door open. It's all fine, though, so he struts on.)

 _Big Dog comin' through_.

It's probably the way Superman feels some days, ten feet tall and ready to take on anything.

He pulls open Ambrosia's door and heads inside, noting immediately how much quieter it is inside today than it had been yesterday. Just the usual old guys right back by the doors and a couple people in a booth by the window, and one customer at the counter.

The customer's this wannabe perky blond who looks like she's in her maybe mid- or late thirties, and always flirts with Corey like crazy when she's here. She's pulling that same routine now, trying to be bouncy and upbeat, smiling and gushing on about how much she "looooves this place" in a way that sounds almost desperate.

Coffee Wizard's not doing anything but wiping down the area by the register and squinting over at her like he's not even sure what she's talking about. When he sees Roman approach, he looks over and says, "Morning."

"Good morning," Roman says, moving to stand in front of the counter.

"Well, _excuse me_ ," Blondie huffs, pushing past Roman.

"Yeah, have a good one," Coffee Wizard mutters without looking at her. He flicks his chin at Roman's chest. "All spiffed up today."

Roman may mentally fist-pump at that, but he absolutely _does not_ think, _Senpai noticed_. Does not.

 _Damn Bayley._

"Yeah," he says, trying to play it cool, "I got a meeting with potential client today. Kind of a big deal."

"Gotcha," Coffee Wizard nods, and Roman suddenly realizes he's not the only one who'd spiffed up a little today. Coffee Wizard's long-sleeved Ambrosia shirt looks brand new, neat and for once not wrinkled all to hell. He'd shaved for a record third day running. The baseball cap is new, too, and there doesn't seem to be as much hair trying to curl out under its edges.

There's a little gold hoop in his left ear, too.

"I got something on my face or something?" Coffee Wizard asks, fingers drumming the sides of the register. It's a sharp question, a needle jabbing a balloon. "What are you lookin' at?"

 _Oh, real smooth_. "Nothin,' man," Roman says. "Just never noticed your earring before. It's cool."

It's probably too much to ask for a hole to open up in front of the register here, he wishes one would anyway.

Coffee Wizard's frown clears, though, and he nods again.. "Yeah, I haven't worn it like five years. Somethin' different, I guess. Didn't mean to be an asshole 'bout it," he adds, leaning over the register. "I just - I keep gettin' stared at this morning, and it's like, 'Is there a joke or something I'm not in on today?' The fuck's everybody's deal? That bald dude and the chick over behind you haven't stopped staring since you came in."

"Bald-?" Roman glances around, and freezes.

Antonio and Bayley wave at him in a weird, smiley kind of unison, bright-eyed and cheerful.

He hadn't even seen them when he walked in, focused as he'd been on Blondie and Coffee Wizard.

As long as he lives, he will never, _ever_ hear the end of this.

"They're staring at me, actually," he finally tells Coffee Wizard, whose frown clears. "Coworkers. I'll be right back. I'm just gonna-" _go knock their heads together_ "-go say hi."

"I'll get your coffee," Coffee Wizard says, shuffling off for the rear corner.

"Just mine, thanks," Roman says. He turns away from the counter and double-times it back to Antonio's table, trying hard to keep his temper in check. "What the hell are you two doing here?"

"Enjoying an excellent cup of coffee," Antonion tells him in what's probably the world's worst attempt at playing innocent. Antonio has _smug_ stamped into his DNA. He couldn't do innocence if he wanted to. "Enjoying the unique atmosphere of this little shop. I like the barbed wire. It's an especially nice touch. Very manly."

Bayley's closer to the window, and today she's wearing the sweatshirt with the rainbow and the Poptart cat-thing on it. She leans over the table and says, "And we're watching Coffee Senpai notice Big Dog. It's _adorable_."

"No," Roman tells her. He uses Boss Voice. That's how serious he is. That is how much he does not need this right now. " _Hell_ no. No. You two need to go. What the hell is _wrong_ with you, man?" he asks Antonio. "You know I'm-"

"When you came in," Antonio says over him, "I _did_ try to wave you over, but you were in such a hurry to go chase that woman away from your coffee man that you didn't see us. I'm surprised you didn't urinate on the counter. Grateful, actually."

Roman pinches the bridge of his nose. Mostly to make sure his hand doesn't do something stupid.

Like punch that smirk off Antonio's face.

This has officially reached _your mom catching you watching porn_ levels of embarrassing.

"You were so aggressive about it, too," Bayley says quietly, that giant blue sky smile in her voice. "All, like, 'Get out of my way, lady. He's mine.'"

Okay, no. No, _now_ it's reached that level.

"I was not," he says, again breaking out Boss Voice. "I did not."

"We're just teasing, Roman, relax," Bayley says. "We did want to catch you before you got your coffee. Chris Jericho won't be coming until ten-thirty now, so since we have some free time, Antonio's going to take me to the apartment site. I need some pictures for a class project. We already got Tyler's coffee-"

"So you can take your time here," Antonio finishes for her. At this point, it would probably require a surgeon to remove his smirk. "There's no hurry, so enjoy your coffee. That was all I was going to say." He nudges Bayley's arm and climbs to his feet. "We should be going. Look like Roman's coffee is ready."

"Oh! Okay," Bayley says, sliding out of the booth behind him. "You'd better not keep senpai waiting. We'll see you later. Good luck."

"Yes," Antonio echoes, his smile warming. "Good luck."

Which is the thing that makes it hard to be that mad at them: they mean well.

It's just not comfortable, having them this close to his personal business when he's still not all that sure what the hell he's even doing.

This was so much simpler when it was just about the coffee, he thinks as the door swings shut behind his coworkers.

* * *

A quartet of well-dressed elderly ladies shuffle in and head for the counter.

Roman hangs back near the straws and napkins and watches Coffee Wizard make a thankfully quick, efficient transaction with them, passing across a tray of croissants and handing out their drinks with a quiet, "Thanks for comin' in, ladies. Have a nice day."

"Such nice people here," one remarks to the others as they shuffle off to one of the tables.

Coffee Wizard snorts, catches Roman's eye, sets a cup clearly marked BIG DOG down beside the register. "So were those two friends of yours or something?"

"That was Bayley and Antonio from my firm." Roman tells him, making his way back up to the counter.

He watches recognition flicker through Coffee Wizard's eyes. "Oh. Yeah, Corey mentioned something about that before he left. Wasn't paying attention. So why were they here? Not - y'know, not that they're not allowed to be, but…"

Roman shakes his head. "They're just killing some time this morning. Our guy's not gonna be here until a little later."

"Your big...thing. _Client_ ," Coffee Wizard says quickly. "Your client thing. You got all dressed up for."

"Right," Roman says, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from blurting, _Wanna see my big thing?_ Probably not appropriate. Yet.. "That client. He's late today, so they're off to get some pictures for one of Bayley's classes."

"I see." Coffee Wizard braces both hands on the counter and sort of leans over the register. "So what the hell was that thing on her shirt? I saw it when she was standin' in line earlier."

"Which thing?" Roman asks, honestly baffled.

"The cat?" Coffee Wizard says. "Looked like a cat swallowed a whole Poptart or something. And it shit a rainbow. I don't know. The fuck kinda acid trip dreamed that up?"

Roman leans casually against the pastry case. "Got me, man. It's probably something she found on the Internet, but I couldn't tell ya what it is. She's always coming up with stuff off there. Why?"

Coffee Wizard shrugs. "Weird thing to see on a shirt."

"Oh, that ain't nothing," Roman says, freeing his phone from his pocket. "Tyler - our receptionist - wants to be a model, and you gotta see some of the stuff he wears. Hang on." He opens his pictures and thumbs through until he finds the one of Tyler sitting at the reception desk in the sleeveless brown fur hoodie and matching boots with the long fringes. "Check this out."

After Roman slides the phone across the counter, Coffee Wizard leans over to look. His eyebrows disappear under the edge of his cap. "Oh, come on! What the fuck is _that_? Those boots look like the fuckin' car wash spinner thingies. Does he actually wear those in _public_?"

He sounds almost _offended_. Roman laughs quietly. "Yeah, he does. It's his thing. Adds a little color to the workplace. Actually, he's got a bunch of other pairs like it. A bunch of those hoodies, too."

" _Why_?"

"It's fashion, man."

"Ain't no fashion I'd ever wear," Coffee Wizard mutters, pushing Roman's phone back over. "You kidding me? Knowing my luck, I'd fall on my face 'cuz those fringe-thingies got caught in the door or something."

"Yeah, that's not my thing, either," Roman says. "I'm sure I'd manage to make myself look like an idiot. Getting it wrapped around a chair leg."

"Break my equipment 'cuz I got it wrapped up in there."

Roman's mouth twitches. "Can't have you breaking your _equipment_ , now can we?"

He's never seen Coffee Wizard really smile before, but that's exactly Coffee Wizard does it now, bright and sly.

And he has dimples.

 _Of course_ he has dimples.

It's a really nice smile.

And he says, "Yeah, I'm pretty fond of my equipment. It's primo stuff, you know? Top of the line."

"That so?" Roman asks, smoothly for all that his pulse is thumping, the warmth in his face.

"That," Coffee Wizard drawls, slouching against the pastry case, "is _so_. I ain't had any complaints about _my_ lever and dials. How I work 'em. You know? 'Bout you, big dog?"

Instead of answering the question, Roman shakes his head and snorts, "Big dog."

He really likes the way it sounds coming out of Coffee Wizard's mouth, gravelly and low.

 _Really_ likes it.

But Coffee Wizard's smile falls right the hell off his face. "What, you don't like that? Should I not-"

"No!" Roman says quickly. "I mean - yes. Yeah, it's fine, man. Sorry. Just no one's-"

"-call you that? 'Cuz it's just - fuck. Okay." Coffee Wizard backs away from the pastry case, face suddenly all boarded over. "I gotta go help Finn unload some trays, so. Shouldn't be standin' around bullshittin' anyway. I got work to do. Have a good day."

"Wait!" Roman leans a little over the counter. "I wasn't-"

Coffee Wizard shoulders the kitchen door open and disappears inside

Roman stares after him, dumbstruck.

This must be what it feels like to run headfirst into a brick wall.

 _What the hell just happened?_

He looks around the coffee shop; it's still mostly empty, quiet and dim, some old punk song playing low on the speakers overhead. Doesn't look like anyone's really walking by much outside. Probably too much to hope someone's gonna come in so he can have a chance to salvage the situation right now.

But leaving it like this - no.

 _No way._

When he turns back to grab his coffee off the counter, he spots a Sharpie laying right next to the register, the barrel all faded and worn. It gives him an idea, and he glances around again, and smiles when he spots the cup hanging on the wall beside the napkins.

They're just small white coffee cups, but that's good enough.

He grabs one, uncaps the Sharpie, and writes, _Coffee Wizard - Big Dog is cool. Not laughing u. Liked how u said it._ It's more difficult than it looks, but he manages to get it all reasonably legible. After that, another thought strikes him, and he draws a down arrow, flips the cup so the bottom's up, and adds: _Had no cmplnts abt my lever & dials either. -Big Dog_.

This is probably the stupidest thing he's ever done, but as he sets the cup down beside the register and spins it so it's facing the kitchen, he doesn't care.

It's better than not trying at all.

With that, he tosses the Sharpie back down, picks up his own coffee, and takes off.

* * *

About an hour later, he's up in his office trying - and failing - to concentrate on entering window measurements into his modeling software when there's a tap at the door. "Yes?"

Antonio pokes his head in. "We're back."

Roman keeps his attention on laptop screen. "Okay."

"Hmm." Antonio lets himself into the office uninvited and shuts the door behind him. "That's not a happy face. How did it go?"

"What the hell were you doing down there?" Roman asks. It's rude and gruff, and right now he doesn't care. "Besides trying to embarrass me."

"If I were trying to embarrass you," Antonio says sharply as he sits down, "I would have stood up and said something like 'good luck with scoring your coffee man' loud enough for him to hear. I didn't say that. We didn't even talk to him. The other one was still there when we got our coffee. If you'd seen us when you got in, we would left right after I told you what was going on."

Roman closes his laptop and folds his hands on it. "You could have just texted."

Antonio's eyebrows pull together. "Is it so bad I'm curious about this man who has my friend smiling? It's been so long I wasn't sure you remembered how."

"I smile all the damn _time_ , man."

"Not like you were yesterday you don't." Antonio leans forward, rests his forearm on the front edge of his desk. "It's not my place, I know, but forgive me again for wanting to see my friend happy. I'm sorry for this morning. That was not the best idea I've had this week, but we genuinely were not trying to embarrass you. If anything, we wanted to cheer you on." He clears his throat. "May I ask how it went, or should I just leave you alone about it?"

"Just say it ended with me writing an apology on a coffee cup," Roman admits ruefully.

Antonio's eyes widen with alarm. "What did you _do_? You didn't get us banned from there, I hope?"

Roman nearly chucks an eraser at Antonio's bald head. "Real funny, man."

"Who's joking? If you get us banned from having Ambrosia coffee, Roman, I'm afraid I won't be able to work with you any longer. There are just some crimes too horrible to forgive."

"It'd probably just be me banned from there, you know," Roman points out.

"Mm." The smile Antonio's been trying to hide surfaces. "That I don't mind so much. As long as I can get my coffee, everything is fine."

"Good to see _my friend_ has his priorities straight," Roman says dryly. Good old Antonio. "Nah, it wasn't that big a deal. Just a misunderstanding. Thinking maybe this afternoon I'll swing by - when he's not expecting me - and try to clear things up." He squints across the desk. "You ever say anything stupid when you were trying to get Nattie to go out with you?"

"Nothing that required an apology before we even started, no," Antonio says, "but the first date, I spilled my wine all over her plate. Some got on her shirt, too. But it worked out. I let her borrow my jacket, and we shared my entree. It ended up being very romantic. Have you-"

There's a sudden, sharp rap on the door, and Bayley's voice drifts through. "Chris Jericho is on his way up."

"Oh, showtime," Antonio says, rising.

Roman smooths down his tie. "Yep. Here we go."

* * *

Chris Jericho is a compact, muscular blond guy who just _looks_ like a rockstar in leather jackets with intricate stitching and stainless steel studs, ripped jeans, boots, and band tee shirts. His hair is carefully styled to look like he doesn't care, and so is his stubble. Shades that are probably more expensive than Roman's car cap off the look.

Roman had always gotten the impression that celebrities brought entourages with them, but Chris always shows up alone.

Today he rolls up with his hands full of a familiar black-and-white pastry box and a coffee carrier with the flattened-on-one-side anarchy symbol.

"Good morning, Summit Architecture!" he says. Sounds like how he'd greet an audience from the stage.

"Morning," Roman says from the doorway to the hall, and Antonio echoes, "Good morning, Chris," from beside Tyler at the reception desk.

Bayley'd gone to get the door for him, and now she reaches over to take the drink carrier and pastries out of his hand. "I can get those, if you want."

"Just grab the ones for you and Tyler there," Chris tells her. "I got the rest. And by the way, the dudes down at place I went said they know you guys. Said they knew what you'd want, so if they fucked it up, it's on them."

"We'd drink it anyway," Bayley says, turning each of the cups in the carrier, and eventually pulling out the two with her name and Tyler's on it. "Trust me."

" _I_ wouldn't," Tyler huffs. "Not unless I knew it was dairy-free."

" _Any_ way," Roman says, ducking into the hallway, "Chris, you wanna head back to the conference room?"

"You got it, chief," Chris says. "I just need a few minutes."

"No problem," Roman says. He leads the way down into the conference room, and stands by the door while Antonio and Chris file in. Once they're arranging themselves around the table - Chris, predictably at the head - he nudges the door shut and heads over to sit across from Antonio.

Before Chris sits down, he extracts yet another coffee cup from his jacket's pocket. Roman's pretty sure if he tried that, he'd spill it everywhere. Chris's cup looks immaculate.

Antonio grabs his own coffee out of the carrier and a muffin out of the pastry box Chris had plunked down between them.

Roman takes the last cup and sets it aside without even looking at it. He's already jittery-wired as it is, and any more caffeine will probably shoot him through the ceiling. "So," he says, clearing his throat, "how's things, Chris?"

Chris sips his coffee and smiles. It doesn't reach his eyes. "Moving along. You know. How 'bout you guys? Staying busy?"

"Trying," Roman says, since Antonio is busy chewing.

"Yeah." The chair _squeals_ when Chris leans back in it. "I would've done this on the phone, but I felt like I owed you better than that. Here's the thing: I'm not using you guys on my office building. I was _going_ to, but the thing is, my partner bailed on me for this record label, and I needed another backer. Can't afford to do all this on my own. My new backer is Vince McMahon, and the old buzzard told me yesterday I need to use his dipshit son-in-law's firm for the building." He rolls his eyes. "He wants it in the family."

"His son-in-law," Antonio says slowly, pushing the muffin aside. He catches Roman's eye. "Hunter."

Their ex-employer.

"Yeah," Chris says. "Look, Antonio, your design was fucking killer, man. You guys were by far the best to work with, and believe me, if I didn't need that old shitbag's money, I'd have told him to stick it up his wrinkly old dirt road. But business is business. But," he adds, sitting forward, "what I _can_ do for you is put your name out there. I know a shit-ton of people, and if I hear of any of 'em needing to have something built, I'll throw them your contact info."

Rejection is hardly a new thing to either Roman or Antonio, but it's still a bitter damn pill to swallow, even wrapped in a cotton-candy promise like this one.

Especially knowing they lost to Hunter's firm.

Antonio says, diplomatically, "We appreciate that, Chris, and we appreciate you telling us in person."

"We do," Roman nods. "Any help getting our name out there is great, man."

More than likely nothing'll come of it, but there's no sense being ungrateful.

"Cool," Chris says. He bounces to his feet in a flurry of creaking leather and weird, manic energy. "Well, sorry to just show up and leave like this, guys, but I've got places to go and people to do. You know how it is. Rock 'n roll. So, anyway, enjoy the muffins and your coffee. Thanks again. Sorry about this."

Roman and Antonio both climb to their feet, and shake hands with him when he offers.

"We'll walk you out," Antonio says, but Chris waves him off.

"Not necessary, guys. Sorry again. But like I said, I'll try to help you get the word out. You're great. Antonio, people are gonna love what you bring them. Just - hang in there. Take care."

Chris hustles out of the room like his ass is on fire.

Roman looks at Antonio, and sinks back down in his chair. "So much for that."

"Mm." Antonio shakes his head and makes his way over to the muffin and coffee he'd abandoned. "Do you think this was on purpose?"

"You mean did Vince cut in on purpose?" Roman loosens his tie, and mulls it over. "If Hunter found out we were designing something, and went to Vince, maybe. But I don't know. Maybe Vince just wanted to get the planning and designs done for cheap. Either way, I don't care. It's over and done. Onto the next one."

It's probably not the last time they'll hear 'no,' either.

Dwelling on this, building up some kind of conspiracy theory, won't help, either.

Antonio's good at taking hints. "Maybe something will come out of this," he says, popping in a bite of his muffin. "These things have a way of working out. In the meantime, we've got enough to keep us busy. Let's just focus on that. Oh," he adds, pointing at Roman's cup, "I didn't want to say anything while Chris was here, but I think your apology may have been accepted."

Roman snags the cup so fast some of the coffee sloshes out through the hole in the lid, dribbles down the side, drips onto the table.

He completely ignores that.

What he finds on the other side of the cup is a rushed stick-figure drawing with a pointy hat on its head, a line coming off one arm that's probably supposed to be a wand, and a badly-drawn coffee mug at the end of the other arm. Underneath it, in barely-legible scrawl, is _Damn right I'm a coffee wizard_.

Beside the drawing is a little arrow pointing down, and when Roman lifts the cup to look at its bottom, he finds, _I'm makin evryone call me that frm now on! -CW_

Well, _of course_ , Roman thinks, and he busts out laughing, because of course _Mr. The. Best at Everything_ would insist everyone call him that.

"Care to share with the class?" Antonio asks. "I could use a laugh."

Roman hands the cup across the table, and Antonio snickers when he finds the note on the bottom. "You know, you may have just created a monster. I think," he adds, "you ought to go down there now. I think while you do that, I'm going to take a long lunch with my wife. Try to salvage some good from this day.

"Yeah," Roman says, straightening his tie again. "I probably should."

 _Why not_?

* * *

It's not just about the coffee beans anymore.

Not by a long shot.

Feels better than he expected to admit that to himself.

* * *

Ambrosia's more-or-less a ghost-town when Roman heads in.

Won't stay that way long; he's passed by here often enough between eleven and one to know there's usually a lunchtime crowd, with people trickling in steadily for that entire two hours.

But for right now, all the tables are empty.

Corey's up at the register, leaning against the side of the pastry case, his back to the register. He's talking to a Coffee Wizard who's busy wiping down his espresso machine.

Roman's apology cup is sitting on top of it like some kind of weird, tiny upside-down hat.

"-idea there, boss," Corey's saying as Roman pauses behind him.. "I like it."

"Remind me to tell D-" He straightens suddenly, attention on Roman. "Hey, big dog," he says, and it's a hundred percent more friendly than the way he'd said _have a good day_ earlier. "What're you doin' here? Your celebrity send you for more coffee?"

"No," Roman snorts. "He left already. Came all that way and bought us coffee just to tell us we weren't getting the job. They gave it to our old firm."

"That sucks," Coffee Wizard says. He drifts up to stand at the register. "Not that you got coffee, I mean. My coffee doesn't suck. But the other part really sucks. Sorry to hear that."

"Thanks, man," Roman says. He holds up his half-empty cup. "Yeah, your coffee definitely doesn't suck. That's why you're the Coffee Wizard. You really gonna make everybody call you that?"

"Oh God," Corey groans.

Coffee Wizard's eyes light up. "Fuckin'-A right I am. I might actually get - no, you know what?" He turns to Corey. "Tell Daniel I want a nametag with 'Coffee Wizard' on it. No. _Executive_ Coffee Wizard. Or Chief Coffee Wizard. No. Executive. Executive Coffee Wizard. I want a nametag that says that."

Roman nearly chokes on a laugh at the look Corey sends Coffee Wizard. "That mean you're actually gonna start dealing with customers when they want the manager?"

Coffee Wizard stares at Corey like he's crazy. "Have we met before? Am I really the guy you want dealing with pissed off customers at six-thirty in the morning?"

"Good point," Corey concedes. "We'd probably have half the cops in the city in here before seven."

"Six forty-five, probably," Coffee Wizard says. "You know, tip jars can be good for bail money."

"I don't even wanna know how it occurs to you to think things like that, boss," Corey say, shaking his head. "Roman, it's been _two hours_ of this. Thank you so much. Really. No. Seriously. Thank you. So, so fucking much"

Roman can't find it in himself to feel bad, not with Coffee Wizard's dimples showing. "Anytime, man."

There isn't a better antidote for a shitty client meeting than this.

Anyone standing ten miles away could've heard Corey's put-upon sigh. "Boss, you really want a nametag that says 'Executive Coffee Wizard' on it?"

Coffee Wizard rubs his chin, shrugs, and says, "Make it 'ECW.'"

"E-C-Dub, huh?" Roman says. "You a fan?"

"Watched it every week when I was a kid," Coffee Wizard nods. He's bouncing on his toes, an excited puppy being offered a ball. "Did you?"

Roman nods. "Sure did, man. My dad was big into that stuff when I was a kid, so that was our thing. We watched it all. WCW, WWF, ECW - you name it."

"What's-?" Corey shakes his head, clearly baffled. "What are you guys talking about? What's ECW?"

"It's wrestling, man," Roman tells him. "Hardcore stuff. It was, anyway, before WWE bought it out and ran it into the ground."

"It was really cool," Coffee Wizard adds, grinning. "All these super angry dudes just beatin' the _shit_ out of each other. And they had a dude who crushed beer cans on his forehead. Sandman. I loved that guy when I was a kid. He was awesome."

"Yeah, that sounds _real_ awesome," Corey says, shaking his head. It doesn't really sound like he thinks that's awesome. And Roman's not really sure it was _that_ awesome, but if it makes Coffee Wizard smile like that, then awesome it is. " _Any_ way, my work here is done. I'm gonna go back and help Finn...do...stuff. So ECW on the nametag, then?"

" _Fuck_ yes," Coffee Wizard says. "And what do you mean your work here is done?"

Corey's gaze flicks over to Roman and back. "My work _up here_ is done. I'm going in the back. So you can talk to Roman."

"Big dog," Coffee Wizard corrects him. "I'm Coffee Wizard and that's the big dog."

"Okay, this is getting fucking weird," Corey says, throwing up his hands and heading for the kitchen door. "I'll get your nametag ordered, Coffee Wizard. You two keep talking wrestling or whatever. Or, you know, maybe think about setting up a time and place outside of work to do talk about that. Like on a specific _date_? You know?"

With that, he lets the door swing shut behind him.

Roman suddenly finds the cracked front edge of the counter too fascinating to look away from.

It's one of those annoying and awkward moments he'd been hoping like hell to avoid.

More people trying to push instead of letting them figure this thing out their own way.

Coffee Wizard's the one who finally breaks the silence, muttering, "Jesus fucking Christ."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure I've seen billboards that were more subtle than that," Roman says. As irritating is was, though, it did leave a big opening, and he can't see a reason not to go for it, so he tears his attention away from the cracked wood settles it on Coffee Wizard. "Got the right idea, though. We should go to dinner some night. Or get drinks. We could talk about wrestling or where you get your coffee or - anything you want. Maybe even our equipment. I'd be down for that. What do you think?"

"No," Coffee Wizard says, shaking his head. "Thanks, but no thanks, big dog."

That was supposed to be an easy slam-dunk yes, considering they were _right there_ just a couple hours ago; now Roman's not even sure what to do with that 'no.' Coffee Wizard's already backing away - _deja vu_ \- and there's not much Roman can do but lean over the counter, try to stop him from getting away again.

"Hold up," he says in his sternest Boss Voice. "Talk to me, man. Why are you saying no?"

He's seen walls with more expression than what's on Coffee Wizard's face right now. "I've told Corey a hundred times I'm not interested in one of his fucking pity dates. Not even with you." He's right by the door. "Sorry you got dragged into this. Excuse me."

Of course he's too big a chicken shit to wait for Roman to actually get the words 'It's not a pity date' out, backing into the kitchen just exactly as he had before, and leaving Roman alone in the empty shop.

It might have been a bad idea, listening to Corey the other day.

Leaving this alone in the comfortable 'what if' pocket seems like it would have been the less frustrating choice.

Right now, he's not sure he if wants to kick a hole in the counter or punch a hole in the wall more.

This time there's no Sharpie on the counter beside the register.

He's not sure what he'd write this time, anyway, and after the morning he's already had, he doesn't really have the energy to think of anything. All he really has the energy to do is loosen his tie and undo the button at his throat.

After one last quick look around Ambrosia's dive bar insides, he heads for the door, leaving the cup with the stick-figure Coffee Wizard abandoned on the counter behind him.

Maybe it's for the best.

* * *

A/N: Oh, boys. So close, but so far away. One more part to go.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Big thank you to everyone for not lynching me after that last chapter. Last part. Ahem. Enjoy.

 **Ambrosia**  
 **Part III: Pity Dates**

Thursday dawns gray and overcast like some cliche out of a damn movie.

Roman, tired and plenty hung over, glares at the clouds as he heads out to his car.

Thick morning humidity hangs blankets the air, and it _feels_ like it wants to rain, but nothing falls on his way to work.

Nothing even falls when he parks his car in the lot opposite of where he usually parks.

His usual parking lot is closer to the office, but parking there also means walking past Ambrosia, and he's not even prepared to face _that_ place - _that guy_ \- this morning, so he decides to park in lot that's behind and across the street from his building.

The walk around takes twice as long, but it's worth it if it means avoiding Ambrosia altogether.

Somewhere around the third shot of whiskey last night (or was it the fourth?), he'd come to the conclusion that he'd been a damn fool for letting anyone fill his head with this nonsense about how he'd "so into" Coffee W - into the coffee dude in the first place. For letting them _tell him_ he should go for it, instead of just leaving him the hell alone about it and letting him keep this where it was comfortable.

The whole idea had been stupid.

Usually he's not one to quit, but this was something he just never should have started in the first place.

The sky keeps looking like it wants to spit at him, but he makes it inside dry as a bone, and spends the elevator ride up to the fifth floor mentally rehearsing what he wants to say to Bayley when he gets there.

He finds her in her usual spot in the conference room, already tapping away on her laptop, feet kicked up on an empty chair beside her.

Her sweatshirt is the same plain, muted gray as the sky outside.

 _Figures_.

"Hey," he says, nudging the chair her feet are resting on.

She looks at him carefully over the top of her laptop. "Morning. You're early. How are you?"

"Fine," he lies. "And you?"

"I'm good. You look beat."

Roman decides to ignore unasked the question behind that, and instead pulls a twenty dollar bill out of his pocket. "Would you do the coffee run today, please?"

"The…? Okay?" Her forehead scrunches up as she straightens and slowly reaches for the cash. "Are you sure? Of course I _will_ , but I'm pretty sure it'd be okay if you went. I don't think senpai would spit in your coffee. And who knows? Maybe he's had a chance to think about things."

"Doubt it," Roman says, shaking his head. All he can picture happening is he goes down to Ambrosia and deals with Coffee Wizard in the kind of stiff, awkward silence that would leave him wanting to punch something afterward. "I'm not in the mood to deal with it today anyway. Like I said, I got a lot of work to do."

"Roman," she says, soft and sad.

"Just leave it alone," he says, turning away. "It's fine. Thanks for going."

He beats a quick retreat before she can say the 'no, it's not fine,' he knows she really wants to. But if he has to stand there with her looking at him like she's all heartbroken for him, he probably really _will_ punch a wall.

He's fine.

He is _fine_.

This is fine.

* * *

It is.

* * *

(It's not at all.)

* * *

And it's clearly going to be one of _those_ days because he's no more than gotten started making some changes to one a set of interior plans than Antonio decides to drop by.

If Roman was a betting man, he'd have bet his life savings Bayley put him up to it.

Because as he leans in the doorway all casual and sharp in a thin sweater and slacks, he's got the same look on his face Bayley had: the one that says he's worried Roman's a bomb about to blow up anytime now.

"Don't think I need to ask how _your_ night was," he comments. "No coffee this morning?"

Roman taps a couple of measurements into the modeling software on his laptop, and waits for them to load. "Bayley's getting it."

"Ah." Antonio eases into the office and closes the door behind him. He sits, crosses one leg over the other, gives Roman a narrow look. "Is that it, then? Or are you just giving things a few days to settle down?"

"I don't know."

"Roman-"

"I'd appreciate it if y'all would just step off my back about it," Roman says over him, short and sharp. "I let you push me into doin' this in the first place, and I'm the one got burnt. I don't want to _talk_. I don't want any advice. I don't want _looks_. He said no. It's no. It's over and done."

"But you said he thought it was a pity date," Antonio points out. "Like I said yesterday, this just sounds like a simple misunderstanding. Perhaps if you talked to him, you could clear that up."

Roman shakes his head. "It's done, man."

"It's really not like you to give up this easily."

"I never should've opened that can of worms in the first place," Roman says, turning his attention back to the building on his screen. "I just liked his damn coffee, and I should have left it at that. I'm _gonna_ leave it at that from now on. I don't want to talk about it anymore. No more jokes. No nothing. Just leave it alone."

One of the many things Roman likes about Antonio is that he knows when to stop pushing. "For the record, I think you're making a mistake giving up like this, but if that's what you wish to do, so be it. And if we're done discussing it, perhaps we could talk about the design for the Cage-Copelands? I'm stuck on how I want the back of the building to look."

Roman closes his laptop, sets it aside, and smiles tiredly across the desk. Antonio's a great mentor and an even better friend, and it's times like this Roman remembers he's also a damn decent dude. Work is just the thing Roman needs to take his mind off everything.

"Fire away."

* * *

They're elbow-deep in trying to figure out whether a flatter, longer building would fit the neighborhood better or if a taller building would when Bayley brings them their coffee.

When she holds out Roman's cup, the only thing he sees scrawled on it is a sharp "R."

Antonio's cup similarly only has the letter "A" slashed onto it.

"I think he was disappointed you didn't come in today," Bayley says from beside Roman's desk. She's got the most painfully earnest look on her face. "He didn't ask where you were, but I think he wanted to. And he sure looked tired. Like you do."

"Bayley." Antonio shakes his head. "Roman's said he doesn't want to discuss this any further. It's over and done. Let's please respect that."

"But if you guys would just _talk_ to-"

"Bayley, that's enough," Antonio says gently, firmly. It's his version of Boss Voice, and it's damn effective. "Roman says it's done, and we need to leave it alone. That's the end. We need be focusing on work right now, anyway. Have you finished the changes on the Colter plans?"

Bayley looks like she wants to say something, but in the end, she shakes her head and says, "Not yet. Most of them are done, but I ran into a snag with how we laid out the rooms that I wanted to go over with you when you had a chance."

Antonio nods and sips his coffee. "I'll come talk to you as soon as we're done here."

"Thanks, boss," she says with a forced-looking smile.

As much as Roman likes Bayley, it's a relief when she pulls the door shut behind her.

* * *

And that's just how it goes for a while.

* * *

 _("It's just not like you to give up this easily.")_

Bayley doing the coffee run becomes the norm in the days and weeks to come, Roman handing her some cash each morning and doing his best to pretend he doesn't see how sad it makes her look.

Even worse than that, he can't seem to adjust to not going to Ambrosia every morning.

Every damn morning, he makes it a point to remind himself to park in the far lot, but habit has him pulling into the near lot way more often than he'd like.

The one day he's fed up enough to just say _screw it_ and leave his car where it is, he spots Corey lounging out in front of the shop, Marlon Brando cool with his a rolled-up sleeves and slicked hair and cigarette in hand.

Not wanting to be seen, Roman turns away so fast he nearly mows down a little old lady.

After that, he tries to be more careful about where he parks.

 _("It's just not like you to give up this easily.")_

He's careful about where he parks the way he's careful not to make a big deal about checking his coffee cups every morning to see what's written there, the way he's careful not to react at only ever finding an "R" there in place of his name or-

( _BIG DOG_ )

-anything else.

What's funny is that before the whole _BIG DOG_ thing, he almost never looked twice as his cup. Never really had a reason to, since that surly, slouchy dude working the espresso machine never wrote anything but _ROMAN_ in his half-assed, sloppy capitals.

If Roman's honest with himself, it's really damned disappointing to never even see his name on the side of the cup. That curt, sharp "R" feels too much like a period at the end of a sentence, like a door slammed in his face, like _the end_.

He's not honest.

As the days pile up into weeks, he tells himself he doesn't miss any of it.

He doesn't miss it in the same the way he doesn't miss Ambrosia's quirky dive-bar charm with all its battered street signs and flattened barbed wire on the walls, that stupid jukebox he'd almost tripped over at least once a week, the mismatched dark tables and chairs.

He doesn't miss it the same way he doesn't miss leaning against the pastry case watching Coffee Wizard do his thing, his soft tee shirts riding up and his jeans sagging a little low and his hands confidently working their magic.

Every morning, the coffee is always perfect.

But Roman tells himself he isn't curious about where the beans come from anymore.

He makes Bayley do the coffee run every morning, and sits in his office not missing it _at all_.

(" _It's not like you to give up this easily."_ )

* * *

But Coffee Wizard had said _no_ in a way that sounded like _no, and don't ask again_.

Roman, watching the traffic rush by in the street below his office one morning, just wishes he could make his stupid brain accept that.

When the deep-in-the-closet coworker he'd been dating for over a year at the old firm coldly broke things off and revealed he'd had a girlfriend most of the time he'd been "fooling around" with Roman, letting go had been easier than this. Roman had been head-over-heels for that guy, too, and the initial heartbreak of finding out that he'd only ever been considered a fuck buddy had made _breathing_ painful for a while.

This isn't that painful.

It's just wedged in his brain the way Ambrosia itself is wedged between the two big office buildings: a sharp rock caught in between the treads of his shoe, jabbing his damn foot with every step.

A rock he can't seem to dislodge and kick away.

* * *

What makes it worse is how quiet the phones get.

It's like Chris Jericho turning them down has turned everyone off of them.

Rationally, Roman knows that's not true: even in a city where the weather's decent enough to support construction projects year-round, there are lull periods where budgets are being redone and holidays and times when nobody's really looking to build.

Even in a city that seems to be growing like a weed, there's only so much building to do at any given time, and with their firm as new as it is, with them being relative unknowns compared to the more-established firms, they haven't developed much of a presence outside of their own back yard just yet.

Which would be fine, but rumor has it their old firm has so much business right now they're actually hiring other firms to handle their overflow.

Meanwhile, nobody but telemarketers seem to be calling for Antonio and Roman; with their other projects starting to wind down, no new clients in the office whatsoever, and three consecutive weeks of barely any phone traffic, it's hard for Roman not to trade worried looks with Antonio over lunch.

"We're fine," Antonio tells him, but the way he's just pushing his salad around his plate tells Roman otherwise. "With what we've got in the bank and our line of credit, our accountant estimated we're set for the next three months. And if we were to make a few cuts here and there, we'd likely be able to stretch that to four. That's with keeping Bayley on. And that's assuming we get no business at all. I don't think that's likely."

It's mid-October.

Roman swallows a bite of his sandwich, does the math in his head. "A few cuts."

Antonio's gaze slides away. "If we stopped the morning coffee run, we'd save a hundred dollars a week. That alone would cover our monthly utility costs - and then some. Or," he rushes on, "we might find a smaller office. Or you can put your name out there to do some engineering work. That sort of thing. As I said, I don't think it's likely _no one_ will come in, but just in case, it never hurts to be thinking ahead."

"Just in case," Roman echoes. That's not very reassuring.

Bayley spent most of her time in the conference room doing her homework this week, and Tyler worked his way through what had to be a two-foot stack of fashion magazines.

"Right," Antonio says, "but that's just to think about." He clears his throat. "If we did have to stop the morning coffee run-"

"It's fine," Roman cuts him off. He can already see where this is going. "If it comes down to a damn caffeine fix or keeping the lights on, I'll keep the lights on. Worse comes to worse, I've got a coffee pot at home I never use I could bring in."

 _Leave it alone_.

Fortunately, Antonio does.

* * *

But as October slips into November, the damn phone stays quiet.

More days than not, he absentmindedly pulls into the wrong parking lot when he makes it to work, and has to spend an annoyed five minutes driving back around the block to get into the right one.

He winds up playing a lot of solitaire at his desk, jacket and tie discarded on the file cabinet behind him, music on in the background, and the slashed "R"s on his coffee cups glaring at him across the desk.

In his more down moments, he finds himself wondering how old Coffee Wizard is doing, if the dude flashing those killer dimples at anyone, or if he's still the same _don't-talk-to-me_ jerk to the customers he was for the first eight months Roman went in there.

He never asks, though, and the most Bayley volunteers is that Corey asks about him all the time.

She hints it's for Coffee Wizard's sake, but Roman refuses to let himself believe it.

* * *

Two weeks before Thanksgiving, though, Antonio marches into Roman's office and says, "We have a consultation in fifteen minutes."

Roman, busy trying to unbury a jack so he can move a stack of cards onto it, looks up from his laptop. "New client?"

"Possibly," Antonio tells him. "Have you heard of the Rhodes family?"

"Mm." Roman reaches behind him for his tie as he searches his memory. He's never been somebody who stays up much on local news, but the name is familiar. "As in the senator? The one who, um, passed away last summer?"

Antonio nods, adjusts his jacket. "I think this I just talked to his widow. She asked for a quick consultation - didn't say what about - so I told her to come up."

This has potential.

Mrs. Rhodes turns out to be a stately lady in her early sixties, short hair, and a big smile. She has a pair of guys with her - one older than Antonio and one who looks to be about Roman's age - that she introduces as her sons Dustin and Cody.

Once they're all seated in the conference room, she looks around the table and finally settles her attention on Roman and Antonio. "My reason for coming to you today is threefold: one, I want to give back to the people of the community here for the kindness they showed my family after my husband passed away. Two, there's a community college that really goes out of its way to try to serve underprivileged students that is in dire need of some help. Three, I want to do something to honor my husband.

"We're in talks right now with the college board to expand the campus, update some of the current buildings, and add at least one more building," she says, pulling a folder out of her portfolio. She slips a campus map out of it, and points to an area marked in red. "We'd want it right here.

"But really," she goes on, "what we're after is a design for the entire campus - all the buildings updated, more parking, and so on. We'd like your firm to actually create that design. Once we have something in-hand, we can start working on the funding. I know it's a lot to ask, but we're looking to have something to present to the college board by the first of the year. Would this be something you're interested in?"

Antonio and Roman exchange disbelieving looks across the table, and Antonio nearly falls all over himself in his haste to tell her, "Yes, of course! Of course we are. We'd be honored."

"Great," Mrs. Rhodes says, smiling herself. "So you know, we were asked to let you know you're the first and only firm so far we've approached with this. You came highly recommended."

"By whom?" Antonio asks.

"Chris Jericho," Mrs. Rhodes replies. "He's an old family friend. When I mentioned we were planning to do this, he couldn't recommend you fast enough. So! Shall we get down to it, then?"

Roman grins at Antonio - _How about that?_ \- and says, "You bet."

* * *

The next morning, Bayley is smiling her big troublemaker's smile when bounds into Roman's office to bring him his coffee.

As he slides his laptop out of the way and reaches for the cup, he can see why:

Right above the Ambrosia logo, it says, _Congrats Big Dog!_ in clear, careful writing.

 _Congrats Big Dog!_

He leans back in his chair and runs his thumb over it, mind racing.

What the hell was _this_? Six weeks of cups with just a pissed-off looking "R" on them, and now this?

Eventually, he realizes Bayley's still there grinning at him. "You put up him to this?"

She's wearing her _Challenge Accepted_ hoodie - the one with the big, round-headed stick figure crossing its arms - today, so he wouldn't put it past her.

But she shakes her head. "I didn't even see it until just now. And anyway, I didn't actually talk to him. I never do. He must have been listening in when I was talking to Corey." She pauses a beat, and adds, "I'm pretty sure he always does when I talk about you. I think he misses you."

"Bayley-"

"I'm just _saying_ ," she says over him, "that I bet you if you went down to get coffee yourself one of these days, he'd be really happy to see you."

Roman shakes his head. "You're assuming _I_ want to see _him_. I don't. Not after last time."

"Because he told you no _one time_ ," Bayley says. She doesn't roll her eyes, but somehow her voice makes it sound like she does. "Even if maybe he realizes he made a mistake and wants to apologize, you're just - you're going to cut him off like that?"

"You don't _know_ any of that," Roman snaps. "You're making this out to be some big _thing_ when the only thing that guy ever did was pour my damn coffee. We weren't friends. We didn't even know each other. I don't even know his damn _name_. All I ever really wanted to know was where the hell he got his damn beans, but suddenly y'all wanted to turn it into some big _thing_ , and I let myself get sucked up in it. I made a damn fool out of myself because of that. And I'm done, Bayley. I'm done making a fool out of myself. It's not happening. End of-"

"Roman," Antonio says sharply from the doorway. "That's enough. There's no need to take her head off."

When Roman looks up, he finds Bayley standing in front of his desk, on the verge of tears. He breathes out heavily, guilt a hard pit in his gut. _What an asshole._ "I'm sorry Bayley,," he says quietly. "I didn't mean to yell. I'm just - I don't want to go there again. I just want to move on - not keep getting sucked back in. But I shouldn't have yelled, and I'm sorry."

Bayley nods, and says, "I'm sorry, too. You just looked so into each other that day Antonio and I saw you at Ambrosia, and I guess I just really wanted to see you make it." She smiles sadly. The sight of it makes something in Roman ache. "Guess some things aren't meant to be, huh?"

"Guess not," Roman says.

Behind Bayley, Antonio just shakes his head and walks away.

* * *

The next day, Bayley brings him a cup that has _BIG DOG_ written on it.

She looks at him like she wants him to say something about it, but when _he_ doesn't, she leaves his office.

After he finishes his coffee, he rinses the cup out, dries it, and sticks it his bottom desk drawer with the other _BIG DOG_ cups.

* * *

Every cup she brings him that week is labeled _BIG DOG_.

He keeps all those, too.

On Friday, when Antonio catches him sticking his cup in the bottom drawer, he raises his eyebrows, but doesn't say a word.

It's as much a relief as it is a disappointment.

* * *

On Monday, he and Antonio take Bayley to meet the Rhodes family and several members of the community college's board for a walk-through of the campus.

They spend the entire morning touring the buildings, taking pictures, making notes, and generally just getting a feel both of the current layout and trying to get a feel for what they can do with it.

It's not a huge campus - just half a dozen buildings and a library - but there is a big empty lot behind it and an empty grocery store beside it, so there's room to grow.

It's a _project_ , is what it is; it's just exactly what they set out to do.

As much as he wants to spend the whole day there, they have to pack it in and head back so Bayley get make it to her afternoon class.

Unusually, Antonio has Roman drive, while he himself sits in the backseat messing around on his phone, leaving Roman and Bayley up front to go start throwing out some ideas for ways to improve how some of the buildings look.

Roman's head is so full of ideas for the campus that it barely registers Antonio has him park in the closer parking lot.

It barely registers they'll have to walk by Ambrosia to make it back to the office.

As they round the corner, Roman can see a couple guys sitting out on the planter in front of Ambrosia, but even that doesn't really get much than a passing thought. People sit out there all the time.

It isn't until he hears Bayley say, "Oh, hey guys!" that he bothers to actually _look_ at who's there.

Turns out, Corey's the dude closest to them, lounging back on one hand and just as cool as ever in his tight jeans and tight tee shirt.

Coffee Wizard's slouched beside him, rumpled like always, a Mountain Dew bottle frozen halfway to his mouth. He's wearing shades, but even so, there's no question where he's looking.

Roman stares right back at him.

It's like someone upended a five-thousand piece jigsaw puzzle in his head for all that he can make heads or tails of how he feels about this, but what he does know is he probably couldn't look away if his life depended on it.

With those shades on it's impossible to tell when Coffee Wizard's thinking, but after a second or two, he lowers his drink and flicks his chin in what's probably a greeting.

As he follows Bayley and Antonio over to the planter, Roman nods back.

"Hey, Roman!" Corey says easily. Everything is so damned easy with him. "Shit, man, long time no see. How you been? Heard you guys just landed a big job."

"Yeah, we just came from there," Roman says. He can't decide what to do with his hands, so he ends up shoving them into his pockets. "Half a dozen buildings to redesign and at least one new one to add. It's a project, all right. You? How've you been?"

He doesn't look over at Coffee Wizard, but he doesn't need to: he can feel the guy watching him.

Corey says, "Upright and breathing. Boss is a slave-driver-" he nudges Coffee Wizard's shoulder "-but I guess I can't complain. I mean, I _could_ , but he'd just tell me to get my happy ass back to work."

Coffee Wizard shoots him a look, kicks his heel against the planter. "Doubt I'd use the term 'happy ass'."

"Oh, I know exactly what you'd say, boss," Corey tells him. "I'm just trying to make it a little more PG. Not everyone shares your love for all things swear-y."

"Eh," Coffee Wizard says. "It's an acquired taste."

"Just like you," Corey nods.

"Shut up," Coffee Wizard mutters into his Mountain Dew. "I'm fucking awesome and you know it."

Roman's quiet chuckle surprises even him, and man, the dimpled smile Coffee Wizard sends him for it has something all kinds of warm and pleasant curling through Roman's stomach.

It's still a great smile.

 _Dammit_.

He was supposed to have let this go by now.

"See?" Coffee Wizard says, pointing at Roman. "Someone agrees with me."

"I agree you're a jackass," Roman says, embarrassed and way too aware that Bayley and Antonio are smiling slyly at him.

Coffee Wizard just shrugs. "A fucking awesome jackass, then."

"Well, I guess if you gonna do it," Roman says, trying to stifle a smile, "might as well be best you can."

Yeah, he might be in trouble here.

" _Thank_ you!" Coffee Wizard says. He looks over at Corey. "And here _some people_ think I need to _not_ be so awesome at things."

Corey clears his throat, glances over at Antonio and Bayley, says dryly, "It's not that some people don't appreciate your, um, talents, boss. We're just just trying to keep you from getting arrested or - worse - sued. Best interests, you know?"

"You say 'best interests,'" Coffee Wizard tells him, "but I'm hearing 'I don't want you to have fun.'"

"I just want you to have the kind of fun that doesn't end up in me raiding the tip jar for bail money at three in the morning," Corey says.

"But that's the best kind of fun," Coffee Wizard says. He sighs. "You just don't understand."

Roman bites down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing again.

"Oh gosh!" Bayley suddenly says. "I need to get going or I'll be late. Class," she adds apologetically.

"Yeah, we prolly oughtta get started closing so you can get outta here, too," Coffee Wizard says to Corey. When he stands up, Roman's struck by how lean he is, all broad shoulders and a crazy narrow waist. They're not standing all that close together, but it's the first time Roman's had a view of him that didn't involve a counter between them.

It's a nice view.

And not something he's supposed to be noticing.

Corey makes his way to his feet. "Well hey," he says, "good to see you all. And Roman? Don't be such a stranger, buddy. Stop in one of these mornings. Seriously."

The worst part is they all know why he's been staying away, so all Roman can really do is nod awkwardly and murmur, "Yeah, I'll try to do that."

He's not sure if he means that or not, but Coffee Wizard smiles again, and…

... _maybe_.

"Then I guess we'll see you around." Coffee Wizard pauses, though, slips his shades off and folds them up. Blue eyes find Roman's across the sidewalk. "It was good seein' you again, Big Dog. Congrats on the job."

"Thanks, Coffee Wizard," Roman says. "See ya sometime."

 _Maybe._

Antonio and Bayley give him approximately thirty seconds' peace before they drift back to flank him, all big grins and raised eyebrows at him like, _Well, THAT was intersting._

"Don't," he says. "Just don't."

"I wasn't going to say anything," Antonio says. Always so damn smug. And a liar, because he _does_ say something: "That was nice, wasn't it? Talking. Together. That went very well. It's amazing what happens when people actually try to do that. Just talk."

Roman doesn't answer.

He honestly doesn't have anything to say.

It _was_ nice.

* * *

But it had been nice last time, too, and everything blew up in his face.

He just doesn't _know._

* * *

After a restless night, Roman dawdles over his drive to work, debating with himself over whether or not he should just bite the bullet and go get the coffee or make Bayley do it.

It's not that he doesn't _want_ to - he actually does - but in the end, he just can't make himself do it.

Not today.

He's just got too much to do this morning.

Yeah, that's it.

Way too much on his plate.

He finds Bayley up in her usual spot in the conference room, her sparkly rainbow pen flying over her notepad so fast it's just a blur of color.

"Good morning, Bayley," he says when it becomes apparently she doesn't realize he's there.

She actually _squeaks_ when she jumps. "Oh! Crap. Jeez, Roman, you scared me. I didn't even hear you come in. What-?" Her gaze shifts up to the clock over the door. "How come you're here already?"

"What are you talking about?" He fishes a twenty out of his pocket and sets it on the table for her. "This is when I always get here."

"No, I just…" She eyes the twenty like it's a snake about to bite her. "I thought you'd be doing the coffee run today, is all."

Roman shakes his head. "Why would I be doing the coffee run today?" he asks, aiming for casual and probably just sound guilty. "Ain't got time today. I got a lot on my plate."

"Oh, for God's sake!" Bayley snaps, throwing her pen down. He's the one who jumps now, startled. "Roman, you are _not_ that busy! Did you not notice how happy senpai was to see you yesterday? His _tail_ was practically wagging because _you_ noticed _him_. You seemed pretty happy, too. And don't think I don't know you've been keeping all those coffee cups, either. I know you want to talk to him. So just put on your big boy pants, suck it up, and go down there. Go say hi. Stop being hardheaded. Even if you guys don't end up dating, maybe you'll make a friend. You need those too. Just - God, _do_ something. You're driving us all crazy, the way you're acting right now."

It takes Roman a good five seconds to collect his jaw off the floor.

She has never once spoken to him like this before.

From the frustration in her voice, this is something she's probably been sitting on for a while.

And considering what an asshole he was to her last week, it's probably something he's had coming.

Maybe she's even right.

For about the millionth time in the last couple weeks, he doesn't have a damn clue what he's supposed to say, and while he's standing there like a jackass trying to think of something, Bayley heaves a sigh so deep it practically rattles the windows.

"Fine," she says, flinging to her feet and grabbing the money. "Go pretend you're busy. I'll go get coffee."

She leaves him standing there feeling slapped down and small.

Considering how much bigger taller and heavier he is, that's saying something.

* * *

He's at his desk staring at his notes from yesterday when Bayley makes it back.

She seems calmer, her smile relaxed and friendly as she passes his drink across the desk. "Make sure you look at this, okay?"

On one side of the cup, it says _BIG DOG_.

On the opposite side is a bad stick-figure drawing of a dude with a pointy hat, a sad face, a wand in one hand, and a cup of coffee in the other. Beneath that, it says, _Sorry for being a dumb ass_.

"Huh," he grunts.

Bayley leans over the front of her desk, the corner of her eyes crinkling. "I told you he wanted to apologize."

Roman runs the ball of his thumb over the drawing. "...yeah."

"Well, look," she says, straightening, "I actually brought you something else. Kind of a surprise. So, hang on. Let me go get it."

"I don't like surprises."

"Oh, hush." From the doorway, she flashes him that big troublemaker's grin. Inwardly, he braces himself. "Everybody likes surprises. Even grumpy big dogs like surprises. Trust me." She leans out the door and calls says, "Hey, you can come on in."

Roman leans forward in his chair. "Who are you-?"

Oh.

Who else would it be?

Coffee Wizard shuffles into Roman's office, a black-and-white Ambrosia pastry box in his hands, and his lower lip caught between his teeth. He's wearing a battered leather jacket over a wrinkled tee shirt, coffee-stained jeans, and his hat pulled so low over his eyes it's hard to see his expression.

Bayley clears her throat from the doorway. "Surprise! And for the record? This was his idea - not mine. So! I'll, uh. I'll leave you two crazy kids to talk."

Coffee Wizard flinches a little when the door clicks shut behind him.

He doesn't move any further into the office, and it doesn't even cross Roman's mind to invite him in.

 _Nothing_ crosses Roman's mind right then.

And when he does manage to say something, it's an amazing, brilliant, articulate, "Um."

 _What are you doing here?_

It's enough to make Coffee Wizard at least look up. "Hey, big dog. Sorry to just, y'know. Show up like this. I know you're busy."

Roman closes his laptop. "I'm not that busy, actually. Come on in. Whatcha got there?"

Coffee Wizard carries the box over to the desk and sets it down. "It's for you," he says gruffly. "I heard a rumor you really like my coffee beans. Figured you'd might like those more than flowers. You seem more like a flower-giver than a flower-getter, anyway. 'S a grinder in there, too, in case you don't have one. So."

Coffee beans.

 _He brought me his damn coffee beans._

It suddenly feels about ten degrees warmer in the office.

As Coffee Wizard sits down, Roman opens the box and peers inside.

There are half a dozen small sacks with what look like hand-written labels on them, things like "FRENCH ROAST" and "MEDIUM ROAST", sandwiched between instructions and - strangely - a list of countries.

Roman pulls one out and points at Brazil, the first of four country names scrawled there. "What's this?"

"Where I get the beans," is the shrug of an answer. His knee's bouncing like crazy. "It's - they're from farms all over the world. I mix and match based on things like acidity of the soil they were grown in or whatever to make the flavors. It's not like an exact science or anything, but you try this thing from here, add that from there, see how it tastes. Mean, honestly it's probably more work 'n I need to do - people will drink mud out of a bucket if it gives 'em a caffeine kick - but I dunno. The whole point of opening Ambrosia was just to be better 'n the assholes across the street."

"Hmm." Roman carefully tucks the little sack of beans back into the box. "I think given a choice between crappy coffee and good coffee, the good coffee wins. That's why you always got a line outside your place. They never do. I'd say you succeeded in your goal. And - damn. Thanks for the bean. This is really cool.. You didn't need to this."

It might just be the light, but it looks like there's a little red in Coffee Wizard's cheeks. "I wanted to. Been tryin' to think of how to de-fuck things between us here, and - look, I'm terrible at shit like this, but I'm sorry about before. About, y'know, turnin' you down."

Roman's gaze travels over to the little stick figure on his cup. "You thought it was a pity date."

"Yeah, Corey snapped my head on straight about that."

"Why did you think that?"

"You see how Corey is, right? Treats me like a dumb kid half the time. Like I can't do shit for myself. I don't, like, date. Ever. If I want company, I go find someone at the bars. That kinda thing. It's fine. But he's, like, convinced I'm all lonely 'n shit, so he keeps throwing people at me. Gettin' friends of his and people he knows to, like, try to go out with me. Drives me fuckin' crazy, you know? It's not that he thinks these people are a good fit for me or anything. He just feels sorry for me. I hate that. And when he said, y'know, we should go out, I immediately went, 'Oh. So he put you up to this.'"

Roman shakes his head. "He didn't, though."

"I know that now," Coffee Wizard sighs. He flips his cap off, scratches his head, and settles it back in place. "But at the time, I didn't. Mean, I know me and you don't know each other that well, but you're like the first person who's come into my shop I've _wanted_ to know. You know? So you're in there flirtin' back with me, and I'm thinkin' 'Well, shit, maybe I did get lucky.' But then Corey acted like he was in on it, and I - mistakenly - assumed you only asked me because he asked you to - not because you wanted to."

It halfway makes sense, anyway. As much as something like this can. Roman props his chin on his palm, letting that settle another long beat. His pulse feels like it's doing all kinds of crazy things here.

 _You're the first person I've wanted to know_.

That…

...is something.

That is _really_ something.

"I'm hopin' maybe this isn't so fucked up I can't talk you into another shot at it," Coffee Wizard steamrolls on, in his blunt, headfirst way. "That's what I'm tryin' to get at. Dinner or whatever some night."

"Hmm." Roman smiles again, indulgently, and sits back in his chair, "This wouldn't be a pity date, would it?"

"It's absolutely a pity date," Coffee Wizard says immediately, those damn dimples flashing again. "I feel so sorry for your incredibly hot, successful ass that I gotta take one for the team and ask you out. What a hardship. I feel sorry for _me._ Really."

The guy can even take a joke.

Roman likes that a lot. Likes _him_. "Incredibly hot, huh?"

Coffee Wizard rolls his eyes. "Yeah, like you don't see the way you turn heads in my shop, big dog. Jesus Christ. Some days it's so bad I feel like grabbin' the hose. But whaddya say? Wanna let me take you out on a pity date?"

"Only if it's a pity date," Roman says. "You gotta show me you feel sorry for me the whole night."

"I'm just sayin', I might be willing to take my clothes off. That's how far I'm willing to go to show you how sorry I feel for you. I'm willing to get naked with you. That's pretty far."

Roman laughs quietly into his hand. He's got a feeling he's gonna have his hands full here. "That it is."

"So, are we on then?" Coffee Wizard asks. He's still slouched back in his chair. Both knees are bouncing now.

"You had me at the coffee beans," Roman says. It's true. "So yeah. Just - yeah. When do you plan to take me on my pity date?"

"Well, I got a thing I can't get out of tonight, but what about tomorrow night? I could meet you somewhere."

"Tomorrow night's fine by me."

Just that easy, like slotting right into a groove.

"Cool," Coffee Wizard says. His knees have stopped bouncing. "Be thinkin' then. And stop being an asshole. Come down to the shop tomorrow. I miss seeing you check out my ass every mornin."

"I will," Roman says, and this time he means that. "I kinda miss checking that out, too. Also watching you work your equipment back there. You're good at it."

"Well, yeah," Coffee Wizard says, eyes twinkling. "Best at everything, remember?"

Roman gives him a narrow look. "You ever get any better on the register?"

"What are you talking about? I was already a _genius_ on the register. Now I'm like tenth-level genius or something." He pushes to his feet. "I should probably get running. I left Corey in charge. He might know how to run the register, but he can't work the equipment for shit. I don't want him breaking anything."

"Yeah, nobody likes their equipment broken," Roman says, standing himself. "Hold up. Lemme walk you out."

But instead of making his way over to the door, he moves to stand in front of Coffee Wizard, close enough to touch, close enough he can see they're nearly the same height.

"Thank you for the coffee beans, man," he says quietly. "That - that was nice. And thanks for coming up to talk to me."

Coffee Wizard smiles. "I think if I hadn't told Bayley I wanted to come up, she would've dragged me by my ear. She kind of scares me."

"Should have seen her this morning," Roman mutters. There's that dimple again.

This time, though, there is no reason on Earth for him not to reach over and drag a light knuckle across it.

No reason not to maybe lean in a little, since Coffee Wizard's not really acting like he wants to pull away, either.

They meet somewhere in the middle, in a kiss that's feels like it's been a long damn time coming, cool and sharp with the mint of Coffee Wizard's gum, and a little badly-angled until Roman moves one way and Coffee Wizard moves the other and they find this groove, too. Until it's an easy press of lips, a smooth slide together, and not at all tentative.

It's over almost as soon as it began, though, and that's fine.

There's no rush now.

Maybe it'll work out, and maybe it won't, but at least he'll have a chance to figure it out on his own.

Although it hits him that they've just had their first kiss, and he _still_ doesn't know this guy's real name.

He lets his hands fall on Coffee Wizard's shoulders, huffs a laugh, and says, "You know, this is gonna sound terrible what the hell is your name? All the time I've been calling you Coffee Wizard because I don't what your name is."

Coffee Wizard snorts. "Keep calling me Coffee Wizard, Big Dog. That is the coolest fucking name I've ever heard. And you gave it to me, so I'm keeping it. I am Coffee Wizard."

Before Roman can even gather himself to protest, Coffee Wizard's dipping in to kiss him again, just as slow and easy as before, his hands sneaking under Roman's jacket to settle on his waist.

Roman completely forgets he even asked a question at all.

* * *

He walks Coffee Wizard to the front door, and sends him off with one last peck on the cheek, and a quiet, "See you tomorrow, Coffee Wizard."

"See ya, Big Dog," Coffee Wizard says, bouncing away.

And, yeah, yeah, that happened.

When looks around, Bayley and Antonio are standing together by the reception desk, smiling, with a revolted Tyler behind them.

Bayley and Antonio look like they're winding up to heap a bunch of shit on him - with a good helping of 'I told you so's on top.

He probably has it coming, but it doesn't stop him from muttering, "Don't."

* * *

They do.

For _hours_.

They're assholes.

But he wouldn't have it any other way.

Feels like they're finally on their way.

* * *

The next morning, he discovers a downward-pointing arrow on his coffee cup.

When he checks the bottom, he finds a name written on there.

 _Dean Ambrose._

It's no Coffee Wizard, but Roman has to admit he likes the sound of it.

* * *

He keeps that cup, too.

[THE END]

A/N: So there's that. This was never meant to be anything but a fluff piece. But thanks to everyone who read it and reviewed it. Also, there is an epilogue. Because why not?


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Fair warning, this is just fluff. Pure, unadulterated fluff. It's also very rambly. Enjoy.

 **Epilogue  
** **Three Years Later**

Ambrosia's unofficial five-year anniversary party, Roman thinks, has been a good one.

They'd had the big public celebration yesterday, and now, Friday night, is the one for the employees - past and present - and a handful of close friends, along with some of Roman's family.

It's not only the five-year anniversary they're celebrating: Ambrosia's about to open a second location across town (over near the community college campus that the Rhodes family had raised a staggering amount of money to help completely renovate, funnily enough), with Corey heading over to manage it, and a bright go-getter named Sami staying behind to run the counter here at the original one.

Dean goes by _Dean_ most days, but tonight, Coffee Wizard is making his triumphant return.

And, man, he is in his element here, running around the party in his 5-year anniversary tee shirt and that silly pointed wizard's hat Roman got him for Christmas their first year together. Roman'd had it custom-printed with the actual stick figure drawing and words off of the original Coffee Wizard cup ( _Damn right I'm a coffee wizard);_ Dean had lit up brighter than the Christmas tree when he'd seen it, of course.

The hat's looking a little frayed at the edges these days, but Dean absolutely refuses to give it up.

Roman loves him like crazy for that.

Loves him like crazy _period_.

The last three years have been a rollercoaster, but Roman wouldn't trade it for anything.

He's got a little box in his pocket he's waiting to bring out tonight to prove it.

About five minutes ago, he'd snagged Coffee Wizard and dragged him outside to get some air, the two of them leaning against the side of the building and looking up into a quiet, overcast night. Not talking much, but that's really not the point. It's just nice to take a breather.

Roman's phone buzzes in his pocket, the signal from Antonio that everything's set up inside.

It's probably going overboard, but something about Coffee Wizard makes Roman _want_ to do wild, crazy things from time to time. He's just that damn infectious.

Inside, all the lights are on and everyone has clustered together behind the counter.

The tables, which had been pushed to the edges of the sitting area to create a kind of makeshift little dancing area, have been rearranged into an S-shape.

They're covered in coffee cups - the old Ambrosia ones (white with just the Ambrosia anarchy logo in black), and the new ones (white with a faint barbed wire print underneath and the same logo).

Coffee Wizard draws to a startled stop at Roman's side. "What's all this?"

Roman points to the table nearest them, the beginning of the S. "Go have a look."

"Wh-?" Coffee Wizard shoots Roman a suspicious look, but eventually shuffles over to the table and and picks up the first cup. "'Always Fine.'" There's a beat of silence, and then he twists around, frowning in confusion. "What is this?"

"First time you gave me a cup that something other than my name on it," Roman tells him.

Recognition brightens Coffee Wizard's eyes. "Oh yeah! Shit. I forgot about that. You kept that? Wait…" Turning again, he reaches for the second cup. "'Big Dog.'"

Roman slips his hands into his pockets. "That was the first time you ever called me that. I wasn't sure why you did."

"You always walked into my shop like you were the big dog on campus," Coffee Wizard says. His voice sounds a little rough. "Still do."

"Because I am." Roman smiles and moves up to join Coffee Wizard at the tables. "Come on. Keep looking."

"These…?" Coffee Wizard's shaking his head, a kind of poleaxed look on his face. "You kept all these?"

"Just a few of them," Roman shrugs. Like it's nothing. "Come on."

He tugs Coffee Wizard's hand, and leads him on what's essentially a stroll down memory lane - in coffee cups.

In and among them all, there's the first Coffee Wizard cup.

There's the cup where he'd finally learned Coffee Wizard's name.

(To this day, that's Roman's favorite story to tell people.)

There's the cup from the morning after their first date - and their first time.

(Roman had learned quickly to not pull his cup out of the carrier if other people were around. Dean's got a wicked streak a mile wide, and to this day gets a kick out of writing some of the most filthy, outrageous stuff he possibly can on Roman's cups. Bayley read one once and nearly turned purple from the embarrassment.)

There's the one from their first _WrestleMania_ together early the next year, a badly-drawn wrestling ring and the stubs from the tickets he'd left sitting under the cup.

The one with the first _I love you_ on it, which he'd handed Roman the morning after he'd finally said it aloud.

(Dean has never been that good about _saying_ it, but more mornings than not, Roman's found it scrawled somewhere on the side of a cup. It's plenty.)

The one from the time Dean decided they should move in together: a picture of a house, and _Move in with me? Or me with you? Don't care. Like waking up w/you_. And the cup Roman had calmly handed Dean across the counter later that day: _Let's find a place together._

(To this day, he remembers the way Dean's smile unfolded, a little at a time, until he looked like he'd had a winning lottery ticket in his hands.)

The ones that have the notes about the houses they'd looked at before they finally decided on one.

The one with _CONGRATS BIG DOG! YOU'RE A REAL BOSS NOW!_ from the day Roman and Antonio hired Bayley on full-time.

(They'd ended up hiring two other full-time employees after that, and have been talking about adding someone else, as busy as things have gotten.)

The one with the badly-drawn slot machine and _Vegas?_ on it.

(They still don't talk about what happened at Excalibur or in Caesar's Palace during _that_ vacation.)

But there the one from late last year, when a small squabble over Dean not wanting to go out with Roman's cousins one night blew up into a fight that ended with Roman walking out, fuming at what a selfish, thoughtless prick Dean really was, deep down. Roman had stayed gone for three miserable weeks, refusing to even answer his phone. Dean had eventually left a cup for Roman at the front desk that said, _I was an asshole & I'm __so_ _sorry. I miss you. What can I do? I just want you to come home_.

(Roman's never been much a crier, but the words ' _come home_ ' had bulldozed into him hard enough that he had that day. It had hit him how stupid the first had been in the first place, and he'd stumbled down to the shop to pull Dean into a hug, not even caring there were half a dozen impatient waiting in line.)

There's the pair from the very next day: Dean's emphatic _I fucking love you Big Dog_ _,_ alongside Roman's own relieved and exhausted, _Love you too Coffee Wizard. You jackass._

There aren't quite as many cups from this past year.

Dean's been so busy getting things ready for the second location to open up that he hasn't been pouring as much coffee.

But there are a few: there's the one with a stick-figure in a skirt and a lei with the ridiculous caption, _Can't wait to go get lei'd_ from right before they headed off to Hawaii for a couple weeks.

The one Roman had left when he'd been feeling a little neglected, _I miss your beans_.

(He'd woken up the next morning to find his hand on Dean's nutsack, and the stupidest grin on Dean's face.)

And there's the one from when Roman and Antonio's firm celebrated its four-year anniversary earlier this year: _Proud of you, Big Dog. Congrats._

And lastly, there's the one Roman added tonight, and it's as they approach that one, at the very end of the S, his nerves really start to kick in. "This last one is from you from me," he explains. "For tonight, so. Go ahead and read it."

He steps back so he's out of Coffee Wizard's line of sight, and slips his hand into his pocket.

"Congratulations, Coffee Wizard," Coffee Wizard reads aloud. His silly, stupid hat is slipping to one side. "Proud of you. Always. Forever."

Roman drops to a knee and holds up the box just as Coffee Wizard looks around. "Whaddya say, Coffee Wizard? Forever?"

Coffee Wizard's mouth falls open, and Roman watches the dots _finally_ connect themselves. "Wait a minute. You did all this to...? Propose?"

"Uh-huh," Roman says, smiling.

The happiness he's expecting to break through Coffee Wizard's constipated look doesn't come. Instead, Coffee Wizard presses his lips together, scowls. "You asshole."

Of all the reactions he _might_ have had, that's the one Roman's just not expecting. He blinks, lost. "What?"

"You beat me to the punch, ya jerk." Coffee Wizard pulls a small velvet-covered box out of his own pocket, heaves an absolutely ridiculous melodramatic sigh. "I totally had a speech and everything. Which is going to sound really lame thanks to your stupid romantic coffee cup shrine here. Always gotta outdo me. Why am I marrying you, again?"

The corners of his mouth twitch at the end of his tirade.

And - _oh_.

Oh.

That's a yes.

That's a yes, and Roman breathes a sigh of relief, his own mouth relaxing into an easy smile. Behind the counter, there's a light smattering of clapping and murmurs. "Maybe it's because you like me," he finally says.

"You're _okay_ ," Coffee Wizard huffs at the ceiling. His cheeks are definitely red. " _Sometimes_."

"Then maybe it's because even when we fight you know I got your back."

" _Maybe_."

"Could be because I'm hot."

"Well, I mean, you _are_ kinda hot. _Kind_ of." Coffee Wizard shrugs. "It might be 'cuz I feel sorry for you, so I'm gonna take one for the team and marry you. A pity wedding. I feel sorry for me."

Roman bursts out laughing at that, the reminder of a day in his office now three years ago.

It had been a good day.

" _Or_ ," Coffee Wizard says, his expression finally softening as much as it ever does, "it could just be 'cuz you're my favorite thing that's happened over the last few years. You know? That could be it. I'm just sayin."

"Your _most_ favorite?" Roman asks, smiling slyly. "I get in over Ambrosia?"

"I mean…" Coffee Wizard makes a show of looking around, both at all their friends and at the back room. "It's close, but 's you I go home to, so I guess - yeah. Yeah, you do. That, and, uh, Ambrosia doesn't have hands or anything like you do, so it can't, y'know, work my-"

Roman leaps to his feet and claps a hand over his idiot fiance's mouth before the word _equipment_ can make it out. "Hey! What did I say about that kind of talk in public?" He doesn't take his hand away; instead he gives everyone an apologetic look. "Sorry. Y'all know my fiance has no filter."

 _Fiance. Holy shit_.

Coffee Wizard's eyes sparkle with wicked good humor and something a lot warmer.

He's probably a little drunk.

But it's all good.

From the front of the room, Corey calls out dryly, "Yeah, we've met him. Congrats, guys. 'Bout time. And congrats, Dean, on five years here."

And just before their friends and family move in to echo those sentiments, Roman pulls his hand away from Coffee Wizard's mouth, and dips in to kiss him.

"Love you, Coffee Wizard," he murmurs, after he breaks away.

Coffee Wizard rests his cheek on Roman's shoulder. "Love you too, Big Dog."

It's all right.

* * *

A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who's read, reviewed, and encouraged me with this one. Y'all are amazing. See you next story.


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